


Two Men and a Tree

by CarryOnMySwanSong



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: "Watchman' Reference, (the word isn’t actually used but implied), Abuse of a Minor, Aconite, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Background Character Death, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Bonding, Brief Pain Infliction, Canon-Typical Violence, Coma, Comatose Stiles Stilinski, Cooking, Detached Manhandling, Domestic Fluff, Dream Sequence, Explicit Language, Fluff, Food, Future Predictions, Good Peter Hale, Gun Violence, Hale Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Intimidation, Isaac's Eyebrows Do A Really Good Derek Impersonation, M/M, Magical Fertility Treatment, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mention of Seizures, Mention of Stiles's Real Name, Mention of injuries, Mentioned Hale Fire, Mentioned Kate Argent, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pack Bonding, Pack Dad Noah Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Pain Siphoning, Panic, Past Character Death, Protective Peter Hale, Racist Language, Scenting, Severed Packbonds, Sharing a Bed, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Dad, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Slow Burn, Stilinski Family Feels, Torture, Violence, Xenophobia, casual affection, casual touching, gunshot wound, loss of body autonomy, magic use, magical healing, mention of bathroom use (non graphic), mention of infertility, mentions of fate, scared children, threat of harm, violent dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarryOnMySwanSong/pseuds/CarryOnMySwanSong
Summary: After a falling out with Derek and the rest of the wolves in Beacon Hills, and Peter Saving Stiles from himself, Stiles and Peter take a road trip. They do not intend to come back. Instead they build a Pack in Montana. They are gone for ten long years, before Derek calls Peter, begging for his help.NOT an "underage" fic!!! Slow Burn Steter. There will be no mpreg.[Tags, relationships, and characters will update with each chapter.]Due to the release of a new app that is allowing access to fics from this website, without consent… that makes money from ads shown while the app is being used, thus allowing the app owner to make money from my works, I am changing the access to my stories. I do not consent to any works published here to be used in third party apps, and I do not consent to those apps allowing others to make money from my creations. I apologize to any users who have been reading my fics without logging in, but I have to protect myself. Thank you for understanding.





	1. Looking Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Interestingpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interestingpumpkin/gifts).



> Ok, so… I have decided that The Wild Hunt will happen at the begging of Stiles and Scott’s senior year, not during their second semester, like in the canon timeline. This story will take place during Christmas break for their senior year, and the events of season 6B will not happen. Stiles’s is 17 at the start of this fic (which is December), and will turn 18 in April.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck doing research, again, Stiles gets distracted with looking back on his life with the Pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Transcript for Teen Wolf, episode 2x12 “Master Plan”](https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?f=137&t=8589)
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale; _mentioned:_ Lydia Martin, Gerard Argent, Chris Argent, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Scott McCall, Noah Stilinski  
>  **Warnings:** Violence, Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Abuse of a Minor. I made Stiles's encounter with Gerard worse than it was in the show.

The weekend Christmas break starts, Stiles is researching a new monster in town that’s got a bad habit of abducting people. Reading through the file his dad gave him, he takes notes as he goes. The first child went missing the weekend after Thanksgiving. Since then, a new child goes missing with each passing week. All of them have been between the ages of 6 and 12. All of them are different races. Each from different religious backgrounds, and family makeups. The only commonality, other than age, is that none of them are from wealthy families. They were snatched once they got close to the woods surrounding their homes, meaning no witnesses.

He knows he isn’t the only one trying to find the the missing children. All evidence points to a run of the mill, serial kidnapping, so the police are working the cases if they were normal instances of missing people. But they’re wrong, and Stiles can feel it every time he walks through the Preserve. Almost like the Nemeton is telling him to keep digging. So he does.

He isn’t having as much luck as he usually does. Lydia is out of state with her family, so she can’t help translate the Bestiary. At this point, he is just translating what he knows and skipping over the rest. He can only hope that somewhere in the Argent history, someone came across whatever they’re looking for.

Two hours ago, he found a site that will take what he and Lydia already translated and can run it through finding similar words. A lot of the text is already done, so it isn’t as slow going as it would have been their first time with the Bestiary.

An hour into it and the site gives him an error message, unable to continue. "Unable to contin.... What the _hell_ does that mean? I swear this thing!"

Stiles clicks around on the page, selecting various words and looking them up. Come to find out, halfway through the Bestiary, someone had the brilliant idea to change the language it was written in.

"Old French... Are you kidding me with this? Who writes in Old French... _and_ Old English? In the same paragraph? What is with these people?! As if this wasn’t frustrating enough, now it’s gonna take twice as long" Stiles sighs and the lights in his room flicker.

He searches the site to see if it can translate it further. It can. He changes the settings and lets it run again.

It is nearing 4am and Stiles’s eyes are beginning to cross. Stretching, he lets his mind wander and it lands on when Scott was bit by Peter and how everything changed. Ever since that day, all Stiles has done is research. He doesn’t always work alone but it is usually his ideas and his research that gets them through whatever it is he is doing. Stiles sighs heavily. It’s exhausting, but apparently the Pack thinks that it’s a one man job, and he’s the only one capable enough to do it.

He usually doesn't mind. Ever since the whole Nogitsune thing, research makes him feel useful. But some nights, when he knows that the pack is asleep while he tries to translate the damn Bestiary all by himself, searching for each strange word on it’s own in hopes of finding a website that can tell him what it mean… he can’t help but get a little frustrated. He has done this so many times he often dreams about the words that sound foreign on his tongue but his brain seems to be able to read, more and more each day.

He sighs again. His mind wanders further, and it leaves him in the memory of Gerard kidnapping him. His anger towards the bastard flares, and the lights in his room flicker and dim. Stiles never told anyone what happened that night. No one ever asked. Except Peter. He told Peter what happened while they were stuck in the Train Station to Nowhere. Peter wanted to kill Gerard, but couldn’t find him. When everyone was brought back, The Ghost Riders took more than just the Nazi Captain. They took Gerard as well. Both men were marked with swastikas. Stiles thought it was poetic that both wore the same band on their sleeves, what with Gerard being genocidal and all. The lights in his room stop flickering and come back on to full brightness, as he smirks at the thought. Even with the satisfaction he feels at knowing Gerard's gone, he still can't forget everything he did to the Pack. Everything he did to _him_.

* * *

_Stiles is knocked out on the field while everyone is focused on the chaos surrounding Jackson’s “death”. Someone carries him to a car and they end up at the Argent home. He wakes, while being carried to the basement, and is forced onto his feet to walk the rest of the way. A man, who’s face Stiles never sees, throws him down the basement stairs of the Argent house. When he shuts the door, the guy turns off the light to the landing of the basement. Stiles stands and he hears a whimper in the dark. Afraid of what he might find, he cowers against the wall, searching for the light switch. When he turns it on, he sees Boyd and Erica hanging from the ceiling by rope soaked in wolfsbane and handcuffs, connected to a small generator with electrical wires connected to their cuffs. Stiles tries to untie them but Erica and Boyd make noises of protest._

_“Shh.” He tells them to quiet down and as soon as he touches the rope, “Ow!” he’s electrocuted, sending painful shocks through both of the werewolves._

_Stiles hears a familiar voice from behind him. “They were trying to warn you. It's electrified.”_

_Stiles turns around, anger and curiosity apparent in his expression. “What are you doing with them?”_

_“At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. There's no point in torturing them, they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their Alpha's too strong.” Disgust and pride wash over his face for a fraction of a second. Just enough to notice, before his expression hardens again._

_“Okay. So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It's pungent, you know? It's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine.”_

_Gerard scoffs. “You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?”_

_Stiles’s voice lowers, a lot less confident. “I think I might prefer more of a still life or landscape, you know?”_

_Gerard doesn’t respond right away and thinking the old man is bluffing Stiles blurts out, “What - what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this roo--” Before he can finish the last word, Gerard slaps him hard across the face. He then grabs the neck of his shirt and knocks Stiles off his feet. Stiles holds his hands up in protest, begging Gerard not to hit him again. He continues to do this, while Gerard hits him over and over._

_Stiles lays on the floor of the basement, and before his vision goes dark, Gerard goes back upstairs and another man comes down. Stiles assumes it is the same man who threw him down the stairs. He still doesn’t know what he looks like. Just as his eyes close and his senses go quiet, he hears more than feels, his rib break as the man kicks him in the side._

_Some time later, a sharp pain registers on his arms. Over and over it happens until he can’t ignore it. He whines as he wakes. The man is shrouded in darkness as he slices into Stiles’s upper arms. He tries not to cry out as the man continues to cut shallow marks into his skin. Enough to hurt, enough to bleed, and enough to scar, but not enough to do any permanent damage. Not enough to kill him.. The pain in his chest feels worse than just a kick to the ribs and realizes the same shallow cuts cover him all over his torso. Each cut is carefully placed and none will show when he wears a shirt._

_The man continues cutting even after Stiles passes out._

_When he wakes for a third time, Chris Argent is giving him something for the pain and bandaging his wounds. He frees Stiles from the chair he’d been tied to when he passed out the first time, and walks him to a car. Once Stiles is in the backseat, Chris shuts the door and lets the driver know he can leave. The car stops a block from Stiles’s house and lets him walk the rest of the way. As soon as Stiles shuts the door to the car, it speeds off. Stiles stumbles home and walks into his room, just in time to hear his dad say, “Oh, come on, Stiles. Where the hell are you?”_

_Playing it off as nothing big, he replies with, “Right here. It's okay. Dad, it's okay.”_

_“Who did it?” Noah walks over to him, anger in his steps._

_Stiles tries to placate his dad with a lie, “It's okay. It was just a couple kids from the other team. You know, they were really pissed about losing and I was - I was mouthing off, you know. The next thing I know -”_

_“Who was it?” his dad demands, again._

_“Dad, I don't know. I didn't even see them really.” Not technically a full lie. The only faces he saw were Chris, Gerard, Erica, and Boyd… and Chris had a broken expression on his face when he helped Stiles to the car, like he didn’t want to be doing what he was doing._

_“I want descriptions.” Noah’s voice is more forceful this time._

_Stiles’s voice raises a couple of octaves, desperate for his dad to believe him and to just let it go. “Look, dad, come on. It's not even that bad.”_

_Noah’s voice cracks with emotion and raises with each word “I - I'm calling that school. I'm calling them and I'll personally go down there, and I'm gonna pistol-whip those little bastards!”_

_“Dad!” Stiles shouts, trying to get Noah’s attention. Then more softly, “I just - I said I was okay.”_

_“God.” Noah almost sobs out, as he grabs Stiles and holds him close in a hug. Tears threaten to fall from Stiles’s eyes. Both from emotion and the physical pain he is in._

_The rest of the night is a bit of a blur, up until he crashes his Jeep into the warehouse wall and knocks Jackson down. The thing that stuck out most was the fact that no one asked him if he was okay, or why he smelled like morphine, blood, and disinfectant. Not even a weird look when he winced and limped when he walked. Not even Scott. He only gave Stiles questioning look at the mark on his cheek, and that was it. He probably assumed it happened when he crashed the Jeep._

_When he gets home, he gingerly lays on his bed, without changing his clothes, and falls asleep on top of the comforter. He doesn’t wake again, until the sun is high in the sky, and it’s only to go to the bathroom and lay back down again. He sleeps for another 4 hours only to wake to the sounds of Dad getting home from work._

* * *

Stiles’s anger causes the lights to flicker again. After that night, everyone went on with their lives as if nothing had happened. Everyone was busy that summer, trying to forget. Luckily his ribs healed enough for him to play Lacrosse that following semester. A lot of the scars faded with diligent use of scar cream. Enough stayed, though, that he was very careful when he changed in the locker room so no one would see them. He knew that that would be the beginning of all of this. How people treated him. The fragile human. As long as he kept quiet, no one seemed to care about the pain he was in. The only one who ever seemed to notice was Peter. Any time he was injured and in the room with Stiles, he’d brush his hand against his bare skin, siphoning away any pain. Stiles and Peter never talked about it. But Peter could see from Stiles’s expression that he was thankful for the help.

Why is it, the one everyone seemed to trust the least, always seems to be the one that cares about him the most? Even Scott is distancing himself more and more these days. Each year something happens and it feels like the pack grows farther and farther away from him.

An annoying beeping noise alerts him that the page he is working on is done translating. Stiles reads through the information and arm pumps while shouting “YES!” causing the light in his lamp to explode. “Damn it. Not again” he laments.

He calls Scott. Who, of course, doesn’t answer. “Why do I even bother calling him. I swear…” Stiles rants to himself as he dials Peter’s number, while ignoring the flickering of his lights.

_“Stiles, it is almost 5 am. Why on earth are you calling me?”_

“Scott wouldn’t answer--”

_“Of course”_

“--and I thought that you are the best one to call, since I know what is kidnapping the kids that are missing.”

_“Go on.”_

“We are looking for a… hold on I can’t pronounce this. I’m going to put you on speaker phone and look up how to say this.” He puts the phone down on his desk and Peter can hear tapping and Stiles muttering under his breath. Finally the site he wants loads and he plays the audio.

“[Jólakötturinn](https://www.howtopronounce.com/icelandic/j%C3%B3lak%C3%B6tturinn/)” [the word is a clickable link]

Peter hears Stiles pick the phone back up. “It’s a…. Why the fuck didn’t it just tell me the English name… I swear to god this thing is going to be the dea--”

_“Stiles, focus”_

“Yeah, sorry. It’s called a ‘Yule Cat..’ Says here it is ‘a cat from Icelandic folklore that lives in the mountains and comes out around the time of Yule. It captures children it finds who aren't wearing new clothes then drags them back to its lair to be devoured’.” He sighs.

 _“Well that sounds pleasant”_ Peter quips, sarcastically.

“Why in the world a giant Icelandic cat is here in Beacon Hills, is beyond me. But that’s what it is.”

_“I don’t know, but I don’t think there’s much we can do about it right now. It won’t try to take another kid for a couple more days, so we have time to find it. Now. If that is all, please get something to eat and go to bed. You have been up entirely too long.”_

“But --”

_“No, Stiles. Don’t argue. It is day three that you have been working on this, and if I know you, and I do, you haven’t slept the entire time. Go to sleep. Eat first. Or I swear I’ll come down there and make you.”_

Stiles pauses, “That doesn’t sound like much of a threat,” he says before he has any time to stop himself.

Peter growls under his breath. Not sure if Stiles is calling his bluff or flirting with him. He is too tired for this and just pinches the bridge of his nose instead. _“Stiles. Do you have anything to eat?”_

“Well, no. Not really.”

_“It’s too late and early to call for a delivery. I’m coming over with food. Please just go take a shower, while I drive over.”_

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Fine, Zombiewolf. But I’m not going to be the one to explain to my dad why a 30 something year old werewolf is visiting his house this early in the morning. He’s going to be awake soon.”

_“I really doubt your father will be that upset with me, if I can get you to eat a decent meal, make sure you get to sleep, and then leave right after. I don’t plan on staying to watch you sleep. Besides, we’re Pack, and Pack takes care of their own.”_

“Alright. Alright, I’ll see you when you get here.”

Peter doesn’t bother saying anything before he hangs up. He just smiles to himself. _That boy, I swear…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Please join me on **[tumblr](https://carryonmyswansong.tumblr.com/post/185277970744/two-men-and-a-tree-masterlist)** ❤  
> • **[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2aIJhnliOqPPBspD634F5O?si=VEaA0yERSwyNFfFb5Yu7Ww)** for the entire story.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	2. Breakfast and a Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter brings breakfast and they have a pleasant meal with Noah before he goes to work. Stiles admits something to Peter and it makes the wolf in Peter feel happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Noah Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale; _mentioned:_ Scott McCall  
>  **Warnings:** Angst, Bad Friend Scott McCall, Fluff, Scenting, Magical Stiles, Pack Bonding, Bed Sharing,

Stiles pulls his phone from his ear and looks at it like its grown a head or something else as equally as strange. Peter just ordered him to take a shower and to wait for him because he is going to bring Stiles food. This is the first time, since they escaped The Wild Hunt, that they’ll be around each other without the other Pack members present. Well. Stranger things have happened.

Stiles tries not to think about that whole thing, as he undresses and stands under the spray of the shower. His mind drifts anyways. Scott was so happy to see him, after he returned. They beat the bad guys together. And saw a common enemy defeated for good. But once the dust settled, and everyone processed everything, the Pack drifted. It seems like they got along really well without him for three months. And seemed to settle into some kind of rhythm. The only thing that resumed was calling him for research. The only two people that treat him like he matters, after that night, are his dad and Peter. 

The lights flicker as his annoyance towards his best friend grows. Apparently the True Alpha is just too busy for plain ole human Stiles anymore. The lights start to buzz as his annoyance turns to anger. He takes a few calming breaths to try and rein it in, since he doesn’t want to have to clean up glass yet again.  He reminds himself that Scott isn’t the True Alpha, anymore. He lost that back when he saved Allison from the Oni attack. The brightness and the buzzing of the lights, slowly eases a little at the thought.

A tap on the bathroom door pulls him out of his own thoughts and the lights return to normal. 

_ “Stiles, are you okay in there? The lights are flickering again.” _

“Yeah, Dad, I’m okay. Just got caught up thinking about the last time I saw Scott outside of school and it upset me a bit. I’m fine though, I promise.” he says this as he hurriedly washes his hair and scrubs the important bits of his body, aware that he’s wasted enough water already.

_ “Alright, son. I’m here if you need to talk.”  _

“I know, Dad.”

_ “I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna go finish getting ready for work.” _

Stiles hears his dad’s footsteps move down the hall towards the kitchen and he finishes rinsing the last of the soap from his body and gets out of the shower. 

He dries off, and gets dressed in some comfy clothes. He smiles as he hears Peter’s car driving up. He makes his way to the kitchen, bumping his hip on the damn hallway table, still not use to the layout of the house they moved into, several months ago.

Just as he gets to the front door, his dad is opening it, and greeting Peter.

“Sheriff… Good to see you again. I hope you have time for breakfast. I brought enough for all of us.” He holds the bag in the air. It appears to be a large cloth grocery bag with large containers inside.

“Oh thank goodness. We haven’t been grocery shopping this week, because  _ someone _ has been locked in their bedroom for the last several days doing research… and the fridge is looking a bit empty.”

“Don’t worry,  _ Dad, _ I’m done with that for now. I figured out what is taking the kids.”

“Oh good! You can fill us in over breakfast.” Noah looks at him pointedly.

Peter sets the bag on the table. From it, he pulls out several containers with hot food inside. He didn’t buy this stuff. He actually made breakfast and brought it over. 

Noah and Stiles set about bringing dishes and silverware to the table, along with various serving utensils. 

“Wait, did you make us each our own meals?” Noah asks, impressed with the spread in front of him. 

“Why yes, Sheriff, I most certainly did. Plus some things for us all to share. For you, I made an omelette with peppers, several types of mushrooms, and low fat cheese, and turkey bacon on the side. Everything is cooked with olive oil and seasoned to perfection. For Stiles, I made curly fries, air fried, and two lightly buttered sausage biscuits, with cheese. For myself, I made a breakfast steak, scrambled eggs, and sauteed veggies.  Because Stiles gets curly fries, I figured I’d make baked hash browns for the two of us. I brought whole wheat pancakes and Bourbon Maple Syrup for us to share. It smells alcoholic, but I assure you it isn’t. It’s just aged in whiskey barrels.”

As he lists all these things off, he sets the dishes in front of each person. The shared food sits in the center of the table. 

“Well, I gotta say, Peter, you have really outdone yourself,” Noah praises. 

“Thank you. It isn’t often I get the chance to cook like this and enjoy it. Usually it’s all eaten before I can get it out of the kitchen.” he smirks, thinking back to all the mornings the Pack let themselves into his apartment while he was cooking breakfast.  _ Damn heathens without any manners, _ he thinks to himself. 

“Let’s dig in before this gets cold.”

Everyone fills their plates and they dig in. Stiles begins to talk around mouthfuls of food.

“Okay, so, I found an entry in the Bestiary. It was a bitch to translate, but it gave me a name. I won’t even begin to try and pronounce it, but it is essentially a very large cat.” He goes into detail, repeating everything he told Peter over the phone. 

Just as they were talking strategy, Stiles takes his first bite of the fries. “Oh my god, Peter I think I love you. These are perfect.” and he just shovels more food in his mouth. 

Peter looks over at Stiles, dumbfounded. Noah blows air out of his nose, with an amused and knowing expression on his face as he takes a bite of his omelette. 

Stiles realizes that both men are staring at him, and he looks up “What?” and looks utterly confused. “What? Do I have food on my face?  _ What? _ ” 

Peter files the moment away, cherishing it. He knows Stiles didn’t know what he said in the moment, but Peter’s stomach still clenched at the thought that he might mean it.

He doesn’t let his feelings show on his face and he just smiles without it reaching his eyes. 

“Nothing, Stiles, just eat your food. And try to get more in your mouth than on your face.” Noah admonishes, the amusement not leaving his eyes. 

Stiles hums in response, finishes his fries and focuses on the rest of his food.

After a few awkward silent moments, the three of them go back to talking about their ideas for finding the Yule Cat and dealing with it.

Stiles finally remembers something “None of the lore I found tells you how to kill this thing. It just says it goes away after Yule is up. I don’t know how we are going to stop it, or even find it and free the kids if they are still alive.”

Noah takes a deep breath, feeling like they are moving in circles. He leans back in his chair and looks at the watch on his wrist. “Well, I am going to be late, if I stay here any longer. We will eventually figure something out. In the meantime, Stiles please go to bed. You look like you went ten rounds in the ring.”

“I will, Dad. I promise. I’m done with research for now.”

“I know you will, son. I just worry.”

“Don’t worry, Sheriff, I will make sure he goes to sleep, before I leave.”

Noah just smiles warmly at Stiles and Peter and gets up to brush his teeth and head to work. 

Once his dad leaves, Stiles stands and tries to clear the dishes. As Peter stops him and takes the dishes from him, Stiles wobbles on his feet, his need for sleep affecting his balance. 

“Stiles, why don’t you go get ready for bed. Get comfortable. I’ll be finished in a moment.”

Stiles makes a noncommittal noise and walks through the house and makes it as far as the couch in the living room, before his body decides to  _ sleep now _ . Stiles tries to fight it but as soon as he gets close enough, he feels his knees buckle and he has just enough brain power to aim for the large piece of furniture. Peter is running water in the kitchen and doesn’t hear Stiles’s whine of protest or the grunt as he falls face down onto the cushions. 

By the time Peter is finished cleaning up the breakfast mess, Stiles is passed out cold, with one arm and one leg, hanging over the edge of the couch. At some point he was able to flip himself over onto his back. 

Peter just smiles at the boy and picks him up bridal style. Stiles makes a noise of protest and Peter makes a soothing rumbling noise in his chest, in response. Stiles settles into Peter’s hold, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck, as he lays his head on Peter’s shoulder. Stiles’s nose snuffles against his skin, and a sigh escapes him, seemingly satisfied with what his smells there. Unsure if he meant to do it, Peter realizes Stiles just scented him while he was sniffing his skin. The tip of the boy’s nose rubbed against Peter’s throat, causing Peter to make a very inhuman noise. Peter fights the urge to tilt his head to the side, in a submissive pose. 

Peter files that thought away and makes his way down the hall to Stiles’s open doorway. He gently leans down and lays him on his bed. Just as he pulls his arms away, Stiles grabs Peter’s wrist and tugs. 

Peter looks down, surprised by the sudden sensation, and then looks at Stiles. His eyes are half open and he makes a whining noise. “Stay, Peter. Please.”

“Stiles, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I just want you to lay with me, while I sleep. No getting naked. No hanky -panky. Just sleep.”

“Alright fine. I hope you have something I can wear because I am not laying in bed wearing slacks.”

“Tall dresser, third drawer. You loaned me a pair of your sweats and I never gave them back.” Stiles shakes his head and yawns. “Too comfy.”

It takes Peter a moment to realize that Stiles wears his clothes. The clothes he gave the boy. The clothes he told Stiles to return and he never did. The wolf in Peter makes a happy noise at the idea of Stiles wearing his clothing.

Peter turns his back and swiftly changes, removing his shoes first. He leaves his Henley on and unbuttons all three buttons. When he turns back around, Stiles is out of his pants and is laying in his boxer briefs. He also has changed out of his t-shirt and into a white singlet. He’s pushed the comforter to the foot of the bed, pulled the sheet up, and is holding it up for Peter to climb in. 

Peter lays down and gets settled. As soon as he stops moving, Stiles noses at his shoulder, nudging it and making a sound of protest. Peter huffs and lifts his arm so Stiles can get closer, and when he does, Stiles snuffles against his neck again. 

Peter tenses. “Why do you keep doing that? You aren’t a wolf, Stiles.”

“I know I’m not, but ever since you came back, your scent. I don’t know…  it’s comforting. Smells like burnt cedar and pine needles. Like…” he huffs in frustration, trying to find the words his fingertips curling around  a wrinkle in Peter’s shirt. “Like something wild but safe. You smell like the Preserve after it rains.”

Peter cocks his head back to look down at the boy. Stiles just admitted to Peter that Peter smells like Pack to him. Instead he just asks, “You smell all of that, on me, with your human nose?”

Stiles yawns. “I don’t think I’m all human,” he confesses. And as his eyes close, he points to the ceiling light and makes a pinching motion. With that, all of the lights in the room go out, except the small night light next to his bed.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Peter muses.

“Been able to since I got back from the Train Station. Now, less talking, more sleeping.”

Peter makes a sound of agreement and the two settle down together. Stiles is out within seconds. But Peter takes a while, trying to process what Stiles has told him so far. As he finally begins to fall asleep, he turns his head slightly, pressing his nose against Stile’s head. He breathes in the scent of his hair and relaxing as he sifts through the chemical scent of his shampoo and finds the one that belongs to Stiles. Its woodsy, and sweet like cinnamon. He also smells the slight scent of the way the world smells right before it rains, and assumes it is the notes of Stiles’s magic. The last thing Peter smells is something that surprises him. Stiles smells like Pack. Like family. Like home.

He rumbles in pleasure, almost like a purr. Just before he closes his eyes, he lightly presses his lips to Stiles’s hair. He falls under with a smile on his face, breathing in the scent of the boy in his arms. He sleeps deeply, and without nightmares for the first time in almost a decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing “good Peter”. Peter’s feelings for Stiles aren’t romantic. Right now, he still sees Stiles as just a boy. Peter has Derek, and Cora, and Malia… but all three of them have kept their distance. Stiles is the first person that’s felt like true family, in a long time. He is hopeful that Stiles sees him the same way.
> 
> * * *
> 
> • Please join me on **[tumblr](https://carryonmyswansong.tumblr.com/post/185277970744/two-men-and-a-tree-masterlist)** ❤  
> • **[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2aIJhnliOqPPBspD634F5O?si=VEaA0yERSwyNFfFb5Yu7Ww)** for the entire story.
> 
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> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	3. The Truth Of It Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes from the most restful night’s sleep he’s gotten since his return from The Train Station. Peter makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale  
>  **Warnings:** Fluff, Angst, Scenting, Pack Feels,

Peter has been awake for an hour, just resting his eyes, listening to Stiles breathe, taking note of when and how his heartbeat changes throughout the night. He wonders what the boy is dreaming about. He woke because at one point, in the night, Stiles gripped Peter’s shirt like it was his saving grace. Stiles had let out a whimper, and his breathing turned into panic. Peter had gently caressed Stile’s arm that was draped across is chest and tried to make quiet, soothing, rumbling noises. It took about 10 minutes, but his breathing evened out and his grip on Peter’s shirt loosened.

Peter finally falls back asleep and wakes again when the sun is well below the horizon, and crickets are chirping outside Stiles’s window. He can feel Stiles’s body slowly waking up. He waits, not wanting to startle the boy, in case he’d forgotten that he asked Peter to stay. 

A voice, muffled and thick with sleep startles him from his thoughts. “I can hear you thinking.”

Peter smiles, realizing he’s been caught off guard. Leave it to Stiles to be the one person to surprise him.

“Is that another one of your new powers?”

Stiles yawns, covering his mouth, not wanting to assault Peter with his morning breath. “No, I could feel you tense up as soon as I started to wake up.” 

“Is that so?” he asks. Affection and his smile can be heard in his voice. 

“Yes, Zombiewolf, it is. Also your scent gets stronger when you do that. Like all your muscles are squeezing out every drop of your smell.” Stiles curls his fingers around a wrinkle in Peter’s shirt, trying to stretch the rest of him without moving much. Also trying to not be rude, poking Peter with… Well, it's embarrassing so we won’t talk about it even though Peter probably woke the same way. But Peter is laying on his back so he didn’t have to try and not be rude about it. 

“Now who’s over thinking?” Peter asks, smirking. 

“I was trying not to be rude. I can’t help this. Besides. I’m warm and comfy and I don’t wanna move.” Stiles makes a whining sound of protest. “But I really need to get up and go to the bathroom. You are so warm though.”

“Do I need to toss you out of bed?” 

Stiles groans again, and sits up, stretching his arms in the air and flexing his back. He didn’t move all while he slept, and he’s a little stiff.

“I’ll be right back.”

Stiles leaves the room, and takes care of business. As he flushes, he hears Peter shuffling around in other parts of the house. He goes back to his room and puts on a pair of pajama bottoms and joins Peter in the kitchen. 

“Cooking again, I see. You spoil me, Peter.”

“I told you, Stiles, you’re Pack. You did a lot of work the last few days, and I wanted to show you I appreciate it. The rest of them never thank you, and I never get the chance to. So this me, thanking you.” He places more pans on the stove as he says this, like it drives the point home.

Stiles didn’t miss how Peter referred specifically to him as Pack and how he didn’t call the others that. Stiles gets lost in thinking about this, while Peter pulls out a bunch of random items. He doesn’t even stir when Peter starts speaking. 

“Your father wasn’t exaggerating when he said that you were down to bare bones. I might be able to pull together something from this mess, though.”

Stiles makes a noise, acknowledging that Peter spoke, but he doesn’t respond otherwise.

“There’s some pink food coloring at the back of the cabinet, I might put that in with some pasta” Peter says, trying to keep the laugh out of his voice.

Again Stiles makes a noise but doesn’t look away from the air he’s currently staring into. 

“Also I’m going to shave my head and run down the street naked.”

Stiles hums and then blinks. “Wh-what?”

“That certainly got your attention.” Peter smirks at him.

Stiles just continues to look at him, confusion all over his face.

Peter’s expression instantly changes from amused to concerned. “Stiles, I was just agreeing with the Sheriff about the state of your food pantry. Are you okay? You seem preoccupied.”

Stiles moves his hands to his lap and looks down at them, worry crossing his face. Peter scents the air and can smell the anxiety coming off of him.    
  
“Stiles,'' Peter says gently. “You can talk to me.” 

Stiles takes a deep breath. “It isn’t anything bad, I just don’t know how to ask, because I’m not sure of the answer. And sometimes that’s worse than knowing.”

Peter waits to allow Stiles time to collect his thoughts. 

“You keep referring to me as Pack, But you avoid calling anyone else that. You’ve done it twice. And I was just.. I don’t know. Worried? I’m not sure, but I needed to know.”

Peter puts down the box of noodles he was looking at and walks over to Stiles. He stands next to him, and leans against Stiles and the chair. A classic pose of reassurance. Stiles leans into him. 

Peters voice is gentle and soothing, when he speaks. “Stiles, ever since the night we returned from the Train Station, you are the only one who feels like Pack to me. Derek was gone for so long, and then I was gone for so long. I barely know my own daughter, and Derek… I don’t think he will ever forgive me for what I did to his sister. You know Scott will never forgive me for giving him the bite and all the things I did in the past. Nevermind the fact that I saved his best friend. You are my Pack. They aren’t. That’s what I meant when I denied being part of Scott’s Pack and why I refer to you and to them, the way that I do.”

Peter gently cups the back of Stiles’s head and strokes until his hand is under his ear, nudging Stiles’s face so he will turn to look at Peter. Stiles’s eyes are swimming and as they spill over, he wraps his arms around Peter and hugs him close. 

Peter’s heart breaks for the boy. He can smell the loneliness on him, his friends always busy with something else. Never seeming to have any time for Stiles, except to ask him to help with one thing or another. “Stiles.”

And with that one word, Stiles starts to openly cry. 

“I’m so sorry, Stiles.”

“No. Don’t do that. You haven’t done anything wrong. And to finally hear that I am part of something. No one has ever openly said I was Pack. No one but you. And lately I’ve felt less and less like I belong. I’m sorry.”

Peter just holds him, and tries to take whatever physical pain he can. When Stiles’s body stop shaking, and his sobs quiet down, Peter leans over to the center of the table and grabs a napkin from the holder sitting there. He hands it to Stiles, who unwraps his arms so he can blows his nose. 

“I guess that’s been building for a while,'' he laughs in embarrassment. 

“Stiles, please don’t ever feel embarrassed about how you feel. If anything, I am living proof that holding it all inside is not good for one’s sanity.” They both laugh a little at that. 

“Alright, you were going to cook something for me?” Stiles says, sliding the chair out and standing. “Why don’t I help you look through all of the stuff that’s left in the kitchen and throw out what’s expired. I think Dad just boxed the old kitchen up and unpacked it without looking at what we had. I’m sure you’re bound to find something in there older than I am.” he laughs and it sounds like music to Peter’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Please join me on **[tumblr](https://carryonmyswansong.tumblr.com/post/185277970744/two-men-and-a-tree-masterlist)** ❤  
> • **[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2aIJhnliOqPPBspD634F5O?si=VEaA0yERSwyNFfFb5Yu7Ww)** for the entire story.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	4. Domesticity and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles cook a meal together. Noah joins them for dinner, they discuss Pack dynamics, and Noah reveals some things about Stiles’s mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Noah Stilinski, _mentioned:_ Alan Deaton, Claudia Stilinski,  
>  **Warnings:** Food Mention, Cooking Dinner, Fluff, Domesticity, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Magical Stiles, Scenting, Mention of Stiles’s Real Name, Stilinski Family Feels, Mention of Infertility, Magical Fertility Treatment, Angst,  
>  **A/N:** For those unaware, “eyes” on a stove refer the burners. Electric stove burners are usually called eyes, because when they are red hot, they look like a bullseyes.  
> -Recipe for [meatballs](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/40399/the-best-meatballs/)  
> -Recipe for [Creamy Beef Stroganoff](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/219046/rich-and-creamy-beef-stroganoff/?internalSource=hub%20recipe&referringContentType=Search)

Stiles starts pulling things from the cupboards and setting them on the counters. Peter joins him. Without speaking, they sort through everything. They find too many boxes of cake mix that are past their ‘use by’ date and several cans that are starting to bulge. A couple of them look like they’re ready to burst at the seams. Once Stiles realizes that the “throw away pile” is going to be pretty big, he grabs a cardboard box from the garage, and stacks them all inside. There’s no way a trash bag is going to be able to contain the impending mess. 

Once they’re finished sorting, there are three sizable boxes ready to go to the trash, and they have a decent spread of food to cook for dinner. What is left is neatly organized in the pantry. Satisfied, they move to the fridge and freezer. Peter finds the deep freezer in the garage and brings all the food in. 

Everything way past its sell date or is too freezer burned to recognize, they put in a garbage bag lined box. All the old food in the fridge is also tossed. After they are finished, there is only one box to throw away, and they still have enough meat to cook for dinner. 

Once all of the boxes are taped shut, Peter carries them all out to the garage, where the larger garbage cans are kept. When he comes back in, Stiles is drying his hands and moving to look through what they set aside to be cooked. Peter smiles to himself and washes his hands so they can get started.

Stiles picks through all of the meat and gets started unwrapping it. Some of it is chopped up beef tips, some of it is boneless pork chops. Without speaking, the two of them set about preparing the food. Peter finds a small food processor in the lower cabinets and he puts the meat in, pulsing it until it is all ground up. Peter transfers it to a bowl and Stiles drops in some parsley. Stiles pulls out the remaining eggs from the fridge, a jar of Parmesan cheese, and the remainder of the bread from the breadbox. While he toasts the bread, Peter measures out the garlic powder and Parmesan cheese. He cracks the eggs, drops them in the mix, and discards the shells. He adds the other dry ingredients once Stiles is done crumbling in the toast. While Peter mixes it all together with his hands, Stiles slowly adds some water. Satisfied with the mixture, Stiles sets up a pan on the stove with olive oil. They work together to roll the meatballs, as the pan heats up. 

Peter turns on another eye and Stiles adds butter to the pan. He then dices some onions and adds that too. He hands Peter another utensil so he can stir them. Once they are ready, he holds a bowl out for Peter to put the onions into and then sets it aside so that he can dice some mushrooms. Worcestershire sauce and butter are added to the pan. Peter cooks those down with the rest of the ingredients. Once they’re done, they’re added into the bowl with the onions.

After all that, Stiles adds a little more butter the pan, and stands next to Peter while he adds flour, whisking it while it cooks. Since they don’t have any red wine, he just adds some milk until there’s a thick sauce in the pan. He then grabs the onions and mushrooms, adds those, and then covers it with a lid and turns the heat down so the flavors can mingle.

Getting out of the way of what Peter is still doing with the meatballs, he sets about getting the noodles. Out of all the boxes on the counter, he grabs the ones that have the same cook times. He puts the rest back in the pantry. He fills a deep pot with water, and sets it on the stove. Peter turns the eye on and finishes what he’s doing with the meatballs. Stiles opens all the boxes of pasta and Peter slowly adds them to the boiling water.

Unbeknownst to them both, Noah had come home. They’re both too caught up in their own little bubble to notice, which is surprising, considering Peter’s enhanced senses. Noah sits at the kitchen table and watches them move around the kitchen like they’ve been living together for years. All he can do is smile. He isn’t sure what they are making but it smells really nice. 

Noah watches as Stiles pulls out half a package of cream cheese and a half empty tub of sour cream and he adds it all to a pan after Peter lifts the lid. Stiles then drains the noodles and Peter puts the meatballs he’d been cooking into the pan also. Last goes in the noodles. While Peter stirs it all together, Stiles gets the plates down and nearly drops them when he’s startled by the sight of his dad sitting at the table.

“Dad! Holy shit you startled me.”

His dad laughs a little. “Sorry, son. I didn’t want to interrupt what you were doing. I’ve been sitting here watching the two of you work like a well oiled machine. You know you haven’t said a single word for the last 30 minutes or so?”

“Huh. I hadn’t even realized.” Stiles looks back at Peter in question, who was watching them with a spatula in his hand.

Peter just hums his acknowledgement.

Noah takes the plates from Stiles and puts them on the table so Stiles can grab a third. He grabs utensils and glasses as well. 

Peter puts the finishing touches to the food, grabs the salt and pepper, and a square potholder and walks over to the table. He sets everything down and, as he’s arranging the food, Stiles brings over a pitcher of water and takes his seat. After Peter plates the food, he joins Stiles and the Sheriff.

“I gotta say, Peter, you keep impressing me with your cooking skills.” Noah praises.

“Hey, I helped. I cooked the sauce and prepped most of the food,” Stiles corrects.

“You both did a great job, this looks fantastic.”

“We had to clean out all the cupboards, the fridge, and freezer, to find all this stuff. It was fun, though. Peter helped me organize what we didn’t throw out, and we made dinner with what was left after.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.”

“It was a pleasure, Sheriff,” Peter says between bites.

“Please call me Noah, Peter.” He smiles 

After that, they’re all silent as they enjoy their meal.

Stiles can’t help but notice a feeling in his chest start to build. It feels like something tugging on his heart, like it’s searching for something to grab on to. As he sits with the two most important men in his life, he can feel this sensation reaching out to them. Once it hits home, they both look up at him, as if they feel it too. 

Peter smiles, knowingly.

“Wasn’t me guys, I swear” Stiles immediately responds. 

“What exactly was that?” Noah’s face is calm, but Peter can hear the uptick of his heartbeat. 

“Well, Sheriff, that was a Pack bond forming. It happens between werewolves and other members of the Pack, once a bond has formed.”

“I’m not a werewolf, and neither is Stiles.”

“Stiles is a unique case. He has a Spark, and that Spark has finally woken up. Stiles told me that he’s been able to affect the lights since he returned from the Train Station. I suspect being exposed to that much supernatural power is what woke it up. Werewolf Packs aren’t just wolves. They also have humans in them, too. This happens because of circumstances like fighting for your lives together, or even birth. Two werewolf parents do not guarantee that a child will be born a wolf. I had many cousins, aunts, and uncles that were human.” Peter’s eyes go out of focus for a moment. Stiles doesn’t miss the sadness there.

“And the moving around each other in the kitchen? Is that part of it too?” Noah asks.

“No. That was all Stiles. I suspect his magic was reading my wolf and responding accordingly. He probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it.”

“Okay, but what does the other stuff have to do with me?” Stiles asks, taking a bite of his food.

“Well, you don’t just  _ have _ magic, you  _ are _ magic. Because of that, you are now a supernatural being, capable of actually feeling the Pack bond. Humans don’t feel it the way we do. To them, it’s just an enhanced feeling of being home and safe when around other members of their Pack. But we can actually feel the physical connection. I bet if you concentrated, like you do with the lights, you could actually see it. I can, when I use my wolf eyes.” Peter’s eyes turn electric blue and he’s startled by what he sees. 

“What? What just happened? What did you see?” Stiles asks, the smell of dread and fear permeate the room, circling around him as he begins to panic, expecting the worst.

Peter places a hand on Stiles’s before he speaks, calming the boy almost instantly. “Emissaries are usually connected to their Pack by a golden thread that ties them back to the Alpha. Not only is your dad’s thread gold, but your’s and mine are woven together as if I were an Alpha. His thread is much thinner than yours, though. I was not expecting it to be gold at all.”

“Wait. Are you saying I have magic? Me? The Sheriff?”

“No, Sheriff, I think you are a carrier. Magic like this is usually passed from mother to child.”

“That would certainly explain why Claudia insisted on naming Stiles after her father. She often told me his role in the family was to keep everyone safe. She never explained it though.”

“What do you mean, Sheriff?” Peter asks.

“Right here, guys.” Stiles says, waving his hand, trying to get their attention.

“His name is Polish. The translation of his name is two parts. Sword and glory,” Noah states, matter of factly.

“You’re telling me his name is ‘Mieczyslaw’?” Peter’s expression is one of shock and awe.

“Still in the room, here.” Stiles tries again.

“Yeah, Claudia insisted.” Noah looks sad when he says this.

“Well, that certainly  _ does _ explain a lot.” Peter looks as if all the pieces have fallen into place.

“ _ Hello!? _ Is somebody going to explain to me what the hell is going on? And how the hell did you know my name?” Stiles bangs his hand on the table, as he shouts, shaking everything, making a sound of metal on ceramic.

The two men look over at Stiles, both sporting embarrassed expression.

“Sorry, son.” “Sorry, Stiles” they both utter at once. 

“I speak several languages,” Peter states.

“Fine, but what about the rest?” Stiles asks, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“Stiles, your magic had to come from somewhere. Sparks don’t just appear. Your mom might not have known she had magic, but she was at least a carrier, just like your dad. Something must have happened to get the ball rolling though.” Peter looks over to Noah, silently asking him. 

Noah scowls as he thinks back. His eyebrows raise as he realizes something. “Your mom had trouble conceiving. We tried everything. Fertility doctors, medications, even surgery to see if there were any physical abnormalities. Her ovaries just didn’t work right. So as a last resort, she visited the only holistic shop in town.” Noah shakes his head. “Stiles, your mom knew Deaton. Before he was a vet, he owned the shop she visited. He gave her a tea to drink. Said it was made from some kind of tree bark. She had to say some words each time she made a cup. I have no idea what they were since she always whispered it. A couple of months later, your mom started having morning sickness.”

Stiles looks angry. He stands, flailing his arms wildly as if his body is protesting the ridiculousness of it all. “So you’re telling me that I’m here because of some magic tree bar--- Oh my god it was bark from the Nemeton.” His eyes go wide and he slaps his hand to his forehead in stunned realization. Before he can react, his feet go out from under him and he falls into his chair.

“Son? Are you okay?”

“I think I need to go lay down.” 

Stiles gets up and walks to his room. Once in the living room, he asks “You coming, Zombiewolf?” and continues on his way.

Peter gets up to follow, and Noah places a hand on his arm to get his attention. “I know this was a lot for him, at once. Just keep me posted on how he’s doing.”

“I will, Noah, don’t worry.” Peter pats Noah’s hand and follows Stiles to his room.

Peter walks in and gently shuts the door.

“Talk to me, what do you need?” he asks Stiles.

“Would it be too weird to ask for skin to skin contact? Because right now, I can’t really handle anything else. I just want to process this information and  _ maybe  _ fall asleep.”

“I can do that. I’m going to leave my pants on, though. I don’t want your dad to get the wrong idea.”

“That’s fine.”

Stiles takes his shirt off and hands it to Peter. Peter removes his Henley and sets both on Stiles’s computer chair. He slides into bed and gets comfortable, waiting for Stiles to do the same. They end up in a similar configuration as last time. Stiles’s upper body is more draped over Peter’s, chests touching. Stiles nudges Peters jaw and Peter leans his head to the side, allowing Stiles to scent him. Peter then turns and does the same to Stiles’s temple. He makes a pleased rumbling noise in his chest. 

“I wish I could do that”, Stiles muses. 

Peter just chuckles under his breath, and continues to rumble.

They don’t speak after that. Just finding comfort in each other’s heartbeats. Peter can feel the pulsing of the Pack bond and can sense when Stiles finally falls asleep. Even asleep, the lights follow his commands, and they turn off.

Peter falls asleep almost immediately after Stiles, thoughts of their conversation circling his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Please join me on **[tumblr](https://carryonmyswansong.tumblr.com/post/185277970744/two-men-and-a-tree-masterlist)** ❤  
> • **[Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2aIJhnliOqPPBspD634F5O?si=VEaA0yERSwyNFfFb5Yu7Ww)** for the entire story.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	5. These Dreams are Made of Trees, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles dreams about the Nemeton. Peter wakes him, alarmed by what he smells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Nemo (Nemeton)  
>  **Warnings:** Dream Sequence, Future Predictions, Mentions of Fate, Brief Pain Infliction, Pain Siphoning, Insecure Stiles, Comfort, 'Watchman' Reference, Bed Sharing, Scared Children,  
>  **A/N:** Writing dream sequences is HARD lol

When Stiles falls asleep, the feeling of falling doesn’t stop. He isn’t falling rapidly. That stomach-in-your-throat feeling is absent, and it doesn’t feel like he’s plummeting to his death, rather it feels more like he’s a feather, gently drifting down. He isn’t fully awake, so he tries to ignore the sensation. He groans in protest as he lands and feels dirt and leaves under his hand. He stretches, sits up, and looks around. 

He doesn’t see much, until he stands. The sky is all black, without stars. The moon is out and its full. He looks around him, and notices a familiar tree stump.

He groans again. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Come on, not this again.”

He hears a quiet cough from behind him and spins around, anger lacing his features. 

Standing in front of him is what appears to be a young child with green skin. They appear to be about 12 years old. Stiles can’t tell what their gender is. They are wearing brown pants with moss on the cuffs, a tunic the color of gray bark with moss on the edges, and a deep green belt. Their vest is hooded and is made from lichen lace. They have brown hair with green streaks. There are twigs sprouting from their temples that appear to be antlers. They have a long face, and high cheekbones. Their eyes are completely shimmery gold. There aren’t any whites, pupils or irises. Their eyebrows appear to be soft moss, with spindly twigs at the head of each brow. Their ears are long and pointed at the tips.

“Who are you?” Stiles asks, anger seeping into his voice.

“I am no one,” they say.

Stiles’s irritation grows. "Don't tell me 'no one'. Who are you?" 

"I'm not anyone yet. But if you must know, I represent the consciousness of the tree." They tilt their head to the side. “I am the Nemeton. You may call me Nemo, if you wish.”

Stiles looks them up and down. He squints, making a decision. “Why am I here?”

“I wanted to talk to you about your magic and your future. The magic that flows through you and I are from the same source. The very earth I sit on. I know you feel me every time you walk through the Preserve. I know you felt the connection the night you saved the sacrifices.”

“What sacrifices?” Stiles shakes his head. “I never saved anyone.”

“How soon you forget your battle against the Darach,” Nemo says. “You and your Wolf are quick to let your kindnesses slip from your memory.”

“My w- you mean Peter?” Stiles arches his brow. “He isn’t my wolf. He’s just Pack.”

“Yes. He is Pack. The bond between you has already started to grow. When you were captured by the Ghost Riders and were stuck at the Train Station for three months, the two of you bonded. There is a reason your bond is gold and is intertwined with his. When you bonded over trying to escape, it was more than just a friendship. It was a true Pack bond. You will be his Emissary one day, in the near future. You will experience a tragic loss, and you and he will embark on a journey together. 

He loves you as his family. You are the only one who sees him for what he is. You were the first face he saw that didn’t want something from him when he woke from his coma. You were the one that lead to his first death. Derek might have dealt the killing blow, but you were the one to throw the Molotov cocktail. Your Spark was present even then. The bond forming between you. He could have killed you out on that field when he injured your friend, but you willed him not to. He could have forced the bite on you. You’d have made an excellent werewolf. But your Spark told him not to, even when you lied and told him you didn’t want it. You’ve entertained the idea more than once. But you don’t need to be a werewolf, to be part of a Pack, to feel included.

It wasn’t his time to be the Alpha. It was too soon, and you knew he needed to be stopped, but you also understood why he was killing those people. The pieces fell into place after his death. It was then that your heart opened up to him. A time will come when the two of you will feel more for each other than you do now. Don’t fight it. Don’t push it. Let it flow naturally.” Nemo smiles serenely at Stiles, waiting for him to respond.

In all honesty, Stiles had no idea what to respond with. He had no idea just how linked the three of them are. 

“What do you want me to do? What is your plan?” Stiles finally asks.

“I want you to guide Peter. Be his family. His friend. Be his Pack. Help him build a bridge between your Pack and Derek’s. Don’t get discouraged by the events that will happen in your near future.”

“Okay, that wasn’t vague at all. Thanks for that,” Stiles says sarcastically.

“That is all I can tell you, of your future. I do have a gift for you. Two runes. They will help you on your journey. The first is _Algiz_. Shaped as a bird’s foot, it will protect you and allow a greater understanding of things you may not yet see. The second is _Eihwaz_. It is very similar to a backwards Z, and will ground your places in both the human and supernatural worlds. You will know what it is to live as your Pack does. You will not die as humans do.”

Nemo reaches out and places a hand over Stiles’s heart and the other on the back of his head. “This will be brief, but unpleasant. I am sorry.”

Stiles falls to his knees, gripping Nemo’s wrist and yells out in pain. His vision goes white as pain courses through his body, radiating out from where the Nemeton’s hands grip him. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays that the pain will stop, or even just fade a little. He feels himself falling again. He loses consciousness and the pressure on his body disappears. The pain lingers, pulsing faintly in his chest and head. He’s scared. 

* * *

“Stiles!” He hears his name and ignores it. He feels a sharp, stinging pain in his hand and jolts awake,  

The lights in the room turn on as he jerks up and rubs the back of his hand.“Ow! Shit, Peter, what was that for?!”

“You went limp and then I smelled burning flesh. What happened?”

“I had a dream, and --” Stiles looks down at his chest and feels the base of his skull. He hisses in pain, as his fingers brush against the brands on his skin. 

“What the hell? Stiles,” Peter looks down at Stiles’s chest and then pushes him forward so he can get a look at the other mark on his head. “Where did these come from?” The veins in Peter’s hands start to turn black as he siphons away Stiles’s pain. “It isn’t normal, to wake up branded after _dreaming_. Tell me what happened.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and tells Peter what was in his dream. He goes into detail and doesn’t leave anything out. When he’s finished Peter sits in stunned silence, his face is scrunched in contemplation. 

“You don’t have to say anything. If you don’t want to be around me, I get it. I mean, how nuts is that? A tree talking about the inevitability of our future. Like, don’t get me wrong, you’re hot and all, but no,” His face scrunches up at the thought. “Gross.”

Peter makes a face at Stiles. Stiles laughs a little, but doesn’t interrupt him. 

“Stiles, its fine. I don’t feel that way about you either. I like our Pack bond. I like our friendship. Nothing will change that. Not some feelings that _might_ happen, and certainly not a tree…” Peter shakes his head, “Wait, how can I be both gross and hot at the same time?” 

“I meant what I said. But the whole zombie thing is a little off-putting… plus you’re old, so.” Stiles makes a dismissive motion and Peter just rolls his eyes. A shadow of a smile on his face.

They sit in silence for a moment. They both expect it to feel awkward, but it isn’t. Peter is still concentrating on removing the pain from Stiles’s skin, and realizes it is a steady ache that doesn’t seem to want to go away. Other than that they aren’t really interacting. Lost in their own thoughts, the silence is comfortable; it feels safe.

Stiles yawns and brings Peter out of his own head and he looks at the clock. “Alright, Doctor Manhattan, it’s time to go back to bed. if something else comes up, we'll address it in the morning. I'm getting too _old_ to be up this late.” Peter lays down and gets comfortable while he says this. 

“Dude! Do you even know who that is?” 

“Stiles, the comics were out long before the movie. _Yes_ , I know who that is. Now go to sleep.”  He lifts his arm up and shakes it a little, urging Stiles to lay with him again.

“Yeah yeah, Zombiewolf.” Stiles smiles, as he lays down and wraps an arm over Peter’s chest. When he gets situated, he rubs his nose against Peter and inhales deeply, sighing. Before Peter can say anything, the lights turn off and Stiles’s heartbeat slows down as he drifts off to sleep.

Peter lays in the dark, unable to fall back asleep. His thoughts are focused on the coming loss Stiles is apparently going to experience soon. They’ve all lost so much, Stiles, more than anyone. He doesn’t want to see the boy in any more pain. He’s barely gotten over what happened with the Nogitsune. Not to mention the hell that was the Train Station. 

Peter sighs heavily, squeezing Stiles a little closer to him, as if trying to protect him from what’s to come. As he closes his eyes and tries to rest, he hears birds start to chirp as dawn begins to chase away the darkness in the sky.

* * *

* * *

A tall dark figure stands outside the mouth of a cave and scents the air as a breeze picks up. A deep rumble starts in their belly, and bubbles up out of their mouth.

“Mmm. Smells like the magic of a young Emissary,” they growl out. They turn and make their way back inside, standing in front of a small group of huddled bodies.

“Smells better than anything I had already planned on eating,” they growl again. They pause when one of the huddled bodies lets out a small whimper. The figure licks their lips. “Don’t worry, I will still eat you. But you won’t be the main course. I plan to eat a Spark.”

The figure throws something on the ground in front of the group and walks away. Small hands reach for the loaf of bread and split it among themselves as quietly as possible. As they consume their only meal for the day, the dark figure hunches over, changing shape. They are now on all fours, long lack tail swishing back in forth. The dark figure walks to the back of the cave, where there is a lot of soft bedding. They turn a couple of circles, and curl up to go to sleep. As they dream of swallowing down a Spark of magic, the cave fills with the deep vibration of their purr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late. I had a camping weekend last week and I couldn't publish early because I had ZERO time... then I spent the remainder of the week after recovering (I'm chronically ill), and dealing with some home life emergencies. 
> 
> Rest assured that posting every Friday will resume as normal, unless something comes up again... which it shouldn't.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	6. Even Hunters Can Packbond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Allison Packbond, which angers Scott. Derek puts him in his place, and the rest of the Pack arrive for the Pack meeting. More bonds form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Jordan Parrish, Derek Hale Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Liam Dunbar, Malia Tate, Theo Raeken; _mentioned:_ Noah Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Lydia Martin, Aiden Steiner, Jackson Whittmore, Ethan Steiner, Corey Bryant, Mason Hewitt,  
>  **Warnings:** Everybody Lives, Packbonding, Bad Friend Scott McCall, Casual Touching, Scenting,

The next couple of days are a blur to Stiles. Peter went home the morning after the dream, and neither have spoken about it since. Stiles spends time with his dad at the station, helping with other cases, and talking with the other deputies about the Supernatural side of Beacon Hills. All of them have seen too much, to be left out of the loop. Parrish helped a lot. Everyone was surprised no one was startled when Parrish showed the teeth and eyes that go along with being a Hellhound.

Despite the bad things they have seen, all of them are receptive to “sensitivity training”. An education seminar that Stiles put together, to train the department on how to interact with supernatural beings that may live among them. Surprisingly, Scott actually agreed to help him. Allison also showed up. The whole thing went off without a hitch and everyone felt better for it.

The final day of the seminar is on the 23rd, and everyone is happy it’s almost over. Stiles is taking a lunch break, thinking about the Pack meeting that night, when Scott sits next to him. Allison joins them soon after. The three of them sit in comfortable silence for a bit, until Scott breaks it. 

“Hey this has been sorta fun. I missed this. Feels almost like old times, minus the whole ‘running for our lives’ thing.” He looks over at Stiles, who looks up at him and hums in agreement. 

“Look, I know we haven’t hung out in a really long time. I feel awful about that. I know you went through a lot the last few years, and this most recent thing with the Ghost Riders. I tried to give you some space to heal from that and I got so caught up trying to give you what I thought you needed, that I didn’t bother asking you what you wanted.” Scott waits for Stiles’s response, aware of the anger coming off his friend.

“Scott, you realize this is the most you’ve said to me in three months? You don’t text me back except to ask me to do research and to let me know about Pack meetings. I want to hate you but I can’t. You’re my brother. When I was stuck in that Train Station, all I could think about was getting back to you and my dad and the rest of the Pack. Then I got back, we fought together to defeat them, and once the dust settled I only saw you during lacrosse practice and Pack meetings.”

Allison is silent for a moment before she smacks Scott on the back of his head. Before he can ask her why she did it, she starts shouting at him “Scott McCall, you asshole! You told me Stiles didn’t want to hang out with you or was busy. You even told me he had other plans! What the hell! He is your best friend! What were you thinking!?” She gets up, arms crossed, glaring at him.

Stiles looks between the two in front of him with his eyes open wide in surprise. He was not expecting this turn of events. In that moment, he felt a tether in his chest reach out towards the hunter. When it snaps into place, she gasps in shock. Her face goes a little pale as her hand hits her chest at the sensation, and she falls back down into her seat.

Stiles stands and rushes to her, putting a hand on either shoulder. “Breathe, Allison. Just breathe. That was just the Pack bond taking hold. The feeling is only this strong because I have magic. It won’t hurt you. Breathe.” He inhales, urging her to breath with him. She starts to take deep breaths, her hands moving to Stiles’s shoulders, to brace herself. “Good. You okay?” She swallows and nods her head yes. He leans his head against hers, and she closes her eyes. They eventually untangle their arms and she nuzzles his forehead with her nose and pulls back with a smile on her face.

Scott is sitting there in stunned silence, watching the entire exchange. His eyes tracking Stiles’s movements while the boy sits in the chair next to Allison. Their knees touch and Allison leans so that her shoulder touches his.

“What the hell was that? You never bonded with me or anyone else in the Pack like that. And what’s up with the sudden touching?” Scott’s anger flares to life and his eyes flare with gold, his tone attempting to take on the Alpha spark it use to hold. 

“Scott, I have magic. I’m a Spark, remember? It works differently now. I’m actually bonding. It started with Peter and my da--”

“No! That isn’t how this works! She is _my_ girlfriend and _I’m--”_

“You’re what, Scott? The Alpha? That ship sailed when you saved me, remember? You don’t own me and I can Packbond with whoever I want. God, you don’t _own_ the Packbond,” Allison scoffs. 

“This doesn’t make any sense. I don’t understand this.” Scott shakes his head “I’m gonna go. I need some space to think about things. I’ll see you at the Pack meeting.”

“Scott! Come back! Scott!” Allison yells. She stands to go after him but Stiles puts his hand on her arm to stop her. 

“Let him go. Maybe he will go to Derek and ask him and actually listen this time.”

“I hope you’re right. I can’t believe he’s acting this way. He acts like you and I are sleeping together or something.” She rolls her eyes as she swallows, focusing on the Packbond, trying to calm down. 

Parrish pops his head in the room, breaking the tension. “Hey, guys? Break time’s over. We have only a couple of hours left of this thing.”

“Perfect timing as always, Parrish.” Stiles comments, as he picks up his lunch trash and tosses it. As he walks by the Hellhound, he reaches a hand out and touches his shoulder. A thread reaches out to the man and when it connects, Parrish’s eyes turn fiery for a moment then return to normal. The two smile at each other.

“Come on, Allison, let’s get this over with. Maybe grumpy pants will be in a better mood at the Pack meeting. If not, we’ll just ignore him.”

She nods and follows him.

* * *

With the seminar over, Stiles says his last goodbyes to everyone, and makes his way to his jeep. He’s surprised to see Allison leaning against the passenger side door. 

“Scott not make it back to come get you?” he asks the obvious. She nods at him, a dejected look in her eyes. “Alright. Its unlocked.” he motions for her to get in.

The drive to Derek’s loft is a quiet one, but they don’t need to fill the silence. Stiles reaches for Allison’s hand, when her thoughts turn dark. He tries to push reassuring thoughts and feelings through their new Packbond and she smiles in gratitude. He should be weirded out by the urge to touch, reassure, and scent mark those he’s bonded with. But deep down, it feels as normal as breathing, and he doesn’t want to stop.

When he pulls into the parking lot for Derek’s building, he and Allison are both surprised to see Scott’s bike. They look at each other and shrug. 

Allison leans into Stiles as they ride the elevator up to Derek’s floor. He wants to wrap his arm around her shoulder but doesn’t want to give Scott anymore ideas so he just lets her lean. He lets his mind wander to the dream he had about the Nemeton, trying to piece together what all the tree could have meant. 

He’s brought out of his thoughts by the growing sound of angry voices. Allison looks at him with worry in her eyes and he tries to send soothing vibes through the bond. 

When the door opens to the elevator, they are assaulted with the sound of Scott shouting, “No! You didn’t see them! She was nuzzling his face like some dog!”

“Scott, for once in your life, will you please listen to what I’m telling you?” they hear Derek shout back. 

There’s a pause and then “What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“It _means_ that Peter and I are both born werewolves. We had werewolf elders. We have a culture, and governance that turned wolves just don’t have. I’ve told you time and time again how things work in our world, and you’ve been fighting me ever since you were turned. I realize that Peter wasn’t that trustworthy in the beginning, but he wouldn’t lie about how Pack dynamics work. He doesn’t fuck around when it comes to that!”

“Yeah but--”

“No! I’m tired of fighting over this. Peter told me that Stiles has magic. A _lot_ of magic. The Packbond is different when it forms with him. It has nothing to do with sex, and it definitely doesn’t mean that she’s more closely bonded to him than she is with you. It’s just different. You need to apologize to your best friend and your girlfriend, because there is no getting around the fact that _you_ fucked up this time. _You_ did. Not Stiles, or Allison, or anyone else. It was _you_.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Get over yourself, Scott. You’re not sixteen anymore.” Derek’s voice is tinged with the Alpha spark to drive his point home. Stiles fully expects Scott to fight Derek after he hears that, but Scott makes a choked whimpering sound and goes silent.

Stiles and Allison are standing at Derek’s door, afraid to open it, not sure if the argument is over. Their silent question is answered when the door slides open and Peter is standing there, with a knowing expression. “Stiles! What a pleasure. And Allison, too. We were just talking about you. Why don’t you come in.” 

Stiles looks at Peter as if to say _you aren’t fooling anyone with that_ , as he walks through the door. Without looking at Scott, he sits down on an empty couch. Allison sits next to him, ignoring Scott, as well. When Stiles wraps his arm around her shoulders and she gets comfortable leaning her head on Stiles’s shoulder like it belongs there, Scott lets out a deep growl. Stiles looks up and sees that his eyes are glowing. 

“Really Scott? You really wanna do this now? Because you’re what, too proud? Well guess what, you aren’t the only one who can do that.” Stiles closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath He focuses on where he feels his magic nestled in his chest, and lets it spread. When he feels it touch every part of himself, he opens his eyes. 

Derek and Peter are both quiet, but Scott immediately stops growling and lowers his gaze. Stiles’s eyes are glowing gold, but it isn’t just werewolf gold. The irises and pupils are gone and in their place looks like liquid gold, swirling around. 

“Now, if you’re done trying to make me feel inferior to you, put your eyes away and come sit with us. Or you can keep standing there, looking like an idiot.” He blinks, letting his magic recede, allowing his eyes to go back to normal.

Scott opens his mouth as if to say something snarky, and Derek growls at him, his eyes tinged with red. Scott’s mouth closes and walks over to Allison. 

Before he can sit, she asks, “Scott, how could you think Stiles and I are sleeping together? When would we have even done it?” She huffs in frustration. “You always said he was busy, and you and I spend all of our time together. Don’t you trust us?”

“Yeah, but the touching? Why do you have to touch him so much?”

“You spend so much time denying your wolf, you don’t even realize that touching, scenting, and being close to your Pack members is a thing you need,” Derek responds. 

“Yeah, but we aren’t animals. And Stiles isn’t even a werewolf!” Scott turns, anger flaring again.

“Correction, we aren’t _wild_ animals. You aren’t just human anymore, Scott. You’re part wolf. You can’t keep denying that part of you. Stiles has the instincts of a werewolf because he’s on his way to becoming an Emissary. Emissaries take on some of the traits of their Pack members as a way to maintain the connection. I told you, the bond isn’t about sex. It never was. Otherwise we wouldn’t Packbond with our own parents.”

“Yeah, Scott, the other person I formed a Packbond with, was my dad. I know for a fact we’ve never done the tango, so…” he leaves the statement open ended, putting emphasis on it with a vulgar gesture with his hands. 

Scott goes silent for a moment, processing all the information. When it all clicks into place, his cheeks tint with a blush and he looks completely embarrassed. 

“Wow, I really fucked up here, huh guys?”

“Yeah buddy, but we love you anyway.” Stiles states. He gestures to Allison’s side and she lifts her arm, inviting him to sit down. Finally, he sighs as if a weight has been lifted, and sits. She rubs her face against his and smiles at him. 

“Are we okay?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Stiles. I don’t know why I got so jealous. I know that neither of you would do that to me. I --” He’s cut off as he gasps in surprise as a tether leading from Stiles’s chest connects to Scott. The suddenness of the connection knocks the air from his lungs. Stiles just smiles. 

Before anyone else can speak, Isaac walks into the loft, takes one look at Stiles, and sits at his feet. He wraps an arm around Stiles’s leg and rubs his face against the boy’s thigh. Stiles absentmindedly begins to run his fingers through the beta’s hair. Stiles feels the Packbond connect with Isaac and a contented rumble starts up in Isaac’s chest. 

Derek walks over and gently touches Stiles’s shoulder as he walks to the door, to greet the others as they enter. As soon as his hand makes contact, Stiles feels a very tiny thread connect to the Alpha. The edge of Derek’s lip curls ever so slightly, before his face goes blank again. 

Stiles wonders if it will be like when he connects with the rest of the Pack. He feels slightly overwhelmed. He can feel everyone’s emotions as they filter through the bond. They have so many members now. Lydia, Ethan, Aiden, and Jackson are all out of town. Lydia is still with her mom visiting relatives. Ethan and Jackson are tying up loose ends in England, and Aiden went with them. Only three of the parents of Pack members were brought in, Noah, Melissa, and Chris. The rest are kept in the dark for the time being. 

When Derek opens the door, Erica and Boyd walk in. Erica shouts “Batman!” before plopping herself in Stiles’s lap and nuzzling his neck. Boyd just nods, and climbs on the back of the couch, his legs ending up on Stiles other side, so that Erica can lean against him. Stiles feels their Packbonds connect. Boyd just grunts and smiles, and Erica nuzzles Stiles’s neck again. “Aww, I didn’t know you cared so much, Batman.” 

Stiles just snorts in amusement.

The three youngest Pack members, Liam, Mason, and Cory,  walk through the door and they sit down at Stiles’s feet. There are other couches to sit on, but everyone is drawn to the pull of Stiles’s magic. When more Packbonds form, they look at Stiles in questions. Derek just watches, after sitting in a nearby armchair. Peter is still standing in the kitchen.

Theo and Malia arrive together. He sits on the far end of the same couch everyone is piled around, and Malia sits on the back, next to Boyd. 

“Oh. You have magic now,” she states. “Is that why we are all Pack bonding with him again?” She directs the question to Derek who just nods at her. “Well, it feels weird. Not bad, just weird.”

Stiles looks at Theo, who looks like he feels out of place. Everyone is sitting close to Stiles, but Theo hurt him the most and is unsure if he’ll be welcome. 

Almost as if he could hear his thoughts, Stiles says “As long as you don’t try to come between me and my friends again, you can scoot closer.” Stiles notes that when Theo scoots closer to Scott and gets settled, that the Bond that forms between he and the chimera feels more like a dotted line, rather than a solid thread. 

The last person to join the Pack meeting is Parrish. He looks freshly showered and changed into comfy clothes. He smiles at the group, as he sits on the empty couch, across from everyone. There isn’t any room for him to pile in.

Derek claps his hands together, once, to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, now that everyone is here who can be, let’s begin the Pack meeting. Stiles, please update us all on what you’ve found.”

Stiles pulls his phone out so he can read off his notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me at every turn. I dunno why, but I'm glad I got through it. I loved putting Scott in his place. Someone needs to smack him with a news paper, I swear lol
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	7. Pack Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles updates everyone on the supernatural being they are having to deal with. Some concerns are put to rest and then the Pack enjoys movie night, with take-out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Jordan Parrish, Peter Hale, Liam Dunbar, Isaac Lahey  
>  **Warnings:** Scott’s kinda an idiot again, mild angst, Pack fluff, Packmom!Stiles

Before he begins to read, Erica moves from his lap to Allison’s and drapes her legs over Scott’s.

He leans forward and focuses on his phone. “Okay, so this is just from the Bestiary. Keep in mind the Bestiary has only been partially translated. I can only do so much with Lydia out of town,” he begins. He brings up the web page with the pronunciation on it that he used when he explained this to Peter, so they can hear the name. 

“Essentially it is a giant black cat from Icelandic Lore that appears during Yule. It kidnaps children who don’t have new clothes, and takes them back to its den to eat. All the lore I’ve found so far, says that it was originally a story parents told their kids, to get them to complete their chores in time for Yule celebrations. Lazy kids get coal instead.”

“That’s it? That’s all you know? You could have told us this a few days ago.” Scott looks annoyed.

“Scott, I was translating for three days straight without sleep. I barely ate. I then spent the rest of the time on every search engine I could find, to search as deep into the web I could possibly go, without breaking the law. I haven’t found a way to kill this thing, yet, but I am still looking.” 

“What else do we know? What convinced you this is even the right creature?” Derek asks.

“As far as we know, only four kids have been taken, all from poorer families, all between the ages of 6 and 12. They all come from different racial and religious backgrounds, and different family makeups.” Stiles starts to look tired, and he sighs in frustration as Derek and Scott both look at him like he’s failed.

“Parrish, are there any details you’ve found, since Stiles was handed a copy of the files?” Allison asks, trying to break the tension in the room. 

“Yeah. Because of Stiles’s seminar at the station this weekend, a couple of the deputies interviewed all of the parents again. The parents of the first two hadn’t put a Christmas tree up yet, and the most recent two didn’t have any presents under their trees, at the time of their abduction. I think this fits pretty damn well with what Stiles found.”

Stiles looks a little smug at this. He looks over Derek’s head at Peter, who also looks smug. Both really wish that Derek and Scott would stop doubting Stiles’s ability to find information.

“I asked my dad to contact other precincts, in communities similar to ours, to see if there are any cases that look like ours. I have been trying to track how and when it got to the US.” Stiles looks like he’s ticking things off of a checklist on his phone, while he says this.

“Why would you waste time doing that?” Scott asks, his anger growing slightly. Allison smacks him. 

“Obviously he wants to try and find survivors, to ask them how they got away. Maybe he can figure out how to kill it… or in the very least how to hurt it, so we can save as many of the kids as possible.” 

“Scott, I love ya, buddy. But ya really gotta stop questioning my every move. I think I’ve proven time and again that I know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Seems solid. Keep me updated on anything Noah finds.” Derek nods at Stiles, approvingly, and Scott looks sufficiently cuffed. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?” He looks at everyone, waiting for their responses. 

Everyone makes various noises that convey that they are ready to move on from the current topic, with nothing to add. 

“Okay, with Pack business addressed, what are we ordering for dinner before we start movie night? And I swear to God if anyone says pizza I am breaking my window just to throw all of you out of it.” A small smile curls at Derek’s lip before his expression is serious again. He crosses his arms and waits.

“We haven’t had Chinese food in a few weeks, why don’t we get that? I think there’s a couple of menus in the drawer Peter is leaning against, in the kitchen.” Liam suggests, looking over to the older werewolf. 

Peter shrugs and opens the drawer, pulling out a stack of menus He sorts through them, and putting back the ones that aren’t for the place they have in mind. He hands them out to those who want to look at them. 

“Everyone text me with what they want and I’ll make the call,” he instructs. 

After about 15 minutes, everyone has sent a text to the Pack’s group text and Peter walks off to grab his Bluetooth headset, so he can read off his phone without putting the person on speakerphone. Stiles is pretty sure he can hear Peter speaking Mandarin.

A few minutes later, he walks back into the room. “They said it will be about an hour. It will take 30 minutes to drive there. I will need a couple of volunteers to go with me, so we can carry it all. Who wants to come?” Peter looks around the room, expectantly. 

Stiles taps Isaac to let him know he needs to stand. Isaac smiles up at the boy and moves out of the way. Stiles gets up and walks over. “I need a break from all this. I’ll go.” 

Peter nods and then looks past Stiles as Isaac walks up. “Are you coming too, pup?” 

Isaac blushes at the endearment, and nods yes. He stands close to Stiles, who shifts his weight so that he’s closer to the young werewolf. Isaac makes a happy noise in his throat and leans so that he’s touching Stiles. Peter just watches the exchange, with a pleased look in his eye, like he’s privy to some secret no one else knows. 

“Alright. We’ll leave now, in case they’re done early. If you need anything while we’re gone, text Stiles. We’ll be near several stores so if we need to get any drinks or snacks, make sure you text before the hour is up. No one is running back out once the movie starts.”

Everyone makes noises of agreement and Stiles can already feel his phone vibrating as texts come in. He rolls his eyes at Peter as they make their way towards the door. Peter just chuckles.

When they get down to the parking lot, Peter leads them to a darker corner and pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. “I figured we’d take my car, since it’s bigger. Stiles, you ride up front.” He motions for the boys to get in, when he unlocks the doors. 

Once they are far away from the loft that Isaac is sure no one inside can hear him he leans forward in his seat and asks, “Hey, so why do I feel more strongly bonded to the two of you, than I do Derek?”

“We don’t know yet,” Stiles explains. “My magic has been getting stronger, since I got back from the Train Station.” Stiles wants to tell him about the dream, but Peter gives him a warning look. 

“I told Stiles we should just wait and see what it means. We have more important things to worry about right now.” Peter says, instead.

“Okay. I know there’s something you aren’t telling me, but I trust you. Your reasons are your own. I’m sure if you could tell me, you would.” Isaac sits back in his seat, flashing his eyes, and reverently touching the thick thread, leading from him to Stiles. 

The rest of the ride to the restaurant is spent in comfortable silence. They get to their destination and the three of them split up to get the various grocery items the Pack requested. By the time they are done, their order is ready. They pack the car and are driving back to Derek’s within 20 minutes. 

No one comments when the three of them sit on the smaller couch together while they eat and watch the movie, leaning into each other. No one seems to notice when Isaac stretches across the boy and the older werewolf, with his head in Stiles’s lap. Derek just glances at them, when Isaac begins to happily rumble when Stiles plays with his hair. Worry crosses his expression before his face goes blank again and he focuses back on the movie. 

By the end of the night, Isaac and Stiles have fallen asleep. Once everyone goes home, Peter gently wakes them and offers the boys some extra pillows and blankets. They nod and thank Peter. Isaac moves to the other end of the couch and gets comfortable. Stiles settles back down and both boys fall back asleep before Peter leaves.

Derek stops Peter at the door, a concerned look on his face. Peter just shrugs and Derek sighs before letting his uncle leave. Derek then locks the door before heading upstairs to his own room.

The Alpha falls asleep, questions circling his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	8. These Dreams are Made of Trees, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles visits the Preserve, hoping to get answers from the Nemeton. Something sinister happens after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale, Noah Stilinski, Nemo (Nemeton)  
>  **Warnings:** fluff, mention of blood (small wound), angst, danger, magically knocked out, kidnapping

Stiles wakes up with a stretch, as the room fills with light. His foot bumps something warm and he looks down at the other end of the couch and sees a sleepy-eyed Isaac blinking at him, a smile on his lips. 

“Morning, pup,” Stiles says, before he can think about what he’s saying. 

Isaac groans. “I don’t wanna be awake right now, but Derek refuses to invest in curtains and it’s too bright in here.” 

“‘Bout time you two woke up. I thought I was gonna have to eat all this food by myself. Get up and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready soon.” Derek announces from the kitchen. 

Both boys groan in protest.

“How is he always so chipper in the morning?” Stiles laments. 

Isaac gets up and rushes to the bathroom. He washes his face and takes care of his business really fast so Stiles can do the same. When Stiles is done, both of them join Derek and sit at the kitchen bar across from Derek’s stove.

Derek fills three plates with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast with butter and orange marmalade. He then fills three bowls with grits and cheese. A food item he became partial to, while living in North Carolina. Stiles promptly crumbles his bacon and chops his eggs up really small and dumps them into the bowl and starts eating the grits with his toast. Both Isaac and Derek make a face of disgust. 

“Oh don’t give me the sour faces, guys. Try it, you might like this,” he says, noting the shift in their emotions, through their Packbonds. 

They eat in relative silence. Stiles and Isaac offer to clean the kitchen when they are finished eating. They then finish helping Derek clean the rest of the loft, since no one bothered before they left, the night before. 

“I’m gonna head out. Isaac, do you need me to take you anywhere?” Stiles begins to gather his things and head for the door. 

“Yeah, can you drop me off at the Argent’s? I still have some things I need to pick up. I haven’t moved all my things back over here yet.”

“Sure thing, buddy. Do you want some help?”

“I’ll be alright. Chris offered to drive me back over, once I’m done.”

Before they could get out the door, Derek stops them both. He grabs the wrists of both boys, a subtle way to scent mark them. “Thank you for staying and helping clean up.” He lets them go and walks back to his recliner and picks up a book and begins to read. Realizing they’ve been dismissed, they both leave. 

Stiles drops Isaac off, at the Argent apartment, lingers for a moment as Chris greets him, and heads off towards the Preserve. He texts his dad, while he is stopped at a red light. 

_I spent the night at Derek’s on his couch. He fed me and Isaac breakfast. I am heading to the Preserve. I need to walk and clear my head. I love you and will see you later tonight. Happy Christmas Eve._

Noah replies back:

_Alright, son. Don’t be out too long. There’s stuff in the fridge for dinner. Invite Peter or someone else from the Pack over. I don’t want you to spend the day alone. I’ll be off about 5pm. I love you, Stiles._

Stiles reads the text his dad sent, as he parks at the entrance to the Preserve. He knows that walking through it is a stupid move because the Yule Cat can still hurt him, even if he isn’t the right age. He’s desperate for answers, though, and he’s willing to risk it. They’re out of options and running out of time to find the missing children. He seeks out the only thing left: The Nemeton. 

Apparently the tree knows he is coming because it doesn’t take him long to find it. Most of the time he’d be searching for hours before he stumbles into the clearing where it sits. He often wonders if it is the tree’s version of pranking him when it prolongs his ability to find it. 

He walks up to the tree stump and the ground rumbles slightly, almost as if the roots are greeting him. He smiles a little. He looks around him and notices that there is sunlight filtering through the treetops. The lights and shadows dancing across the clearing, appearing alive.

Without putting much thought into what he’s doing, he takes his hoodie off and bunches it up to use as a pillow. He kicks his shoes off and sets them on the ground. He puts his hands on the stump to pull himself up. When he does, his hand catches on a splinter that cuts his palm. He hisses at the sudden pain and inspects the wound. He sees a small sliver of wood and pulls it out. _Hopefully the bleeding will stop soon_ , he thinks to himself. He then climbs on top of the stump, stretches out, and gets comfortable. 

“Okay, Nemo. I am at a loss here. I’ve done all the research. Read all the case files. I can’t find any more information than I already have. I need help finding the missing kids, before it’s too late. Christmas will be here soon and when it’s over, the Yule Cat will leave. I need to find them before it eats them and moves on.”

He lays his hands down on the stump, palms down, and concentrates. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he figures he’d try anything. He feels his magic waking up and spreading from his chest throughout the rest of his body. The sting in his hand, where the tree cut him, fades. Unknown to him, where his blood drips onto the dry wood, the color is changing. New growth is slowly starting to sprout from a crack and is making its way towards his hand. When it reaches its destination, the tip of the new growth touches the wound, as if lapping at the blood, encouraging it to fall.

Stiles feels himself falling again, warmth spreading through his body. When he lands, he opens his eyes and looks around. Unlike before, where he woke up on the ground, he is now laying on the Nemeton’s stump. The difference between the dream stump and the real stump is that he’s laying on a bed of moss, and there are little green shoots growing out of the cracks. They’re too green to be considered saplings. They look like large bean sprouts. He carefully crawls to the edge of the stump and stands. 

When he looks up, he is greeted by an older looking Nemo. Where Nemo looked 12 years old before, the tree being looks to be about Stiles’s age now. Their face has lost some of the baby fat and they appear to be a healthier shade of green. Their twig like antlers and eyebrows appear to be alive, rather than dried and dead. Their hair is no longer limp and faded, but vibrant and soft.

“You’re looking better.” Stiles notes.

Nemo hums and smiles.

“I need your help. We’ve done everything we can to find the kids and tomorrow is Christmas. We’re out of time,” Stiles rushes out.

“You’re right on time, Stiles. I can’t give you the answers you seek, but I can give you some tools that will help you in your quest. You will need them to survive the coming battle. My only advice is this: don’t give up. Don’t despair. Don’t let your magic run rampant, since it will save you in the end.” Nemo walks towards Stiles and motions for him to kneel. They place a hand behind Stiles’s right ear, and the other at the base of his throat, right at the dip between his collar bones.

Stiles sighs. He knows this is going to be unpleasant, even before Nemo speaks again. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain. He grabs on to each of Nemo’s wrists, to keep from falling when it does hit.

“This will hurt, just as it did last time. I’m sorry, but it is necessary. I will give you two more runes. The first is called _Kenaz_ , it looks like a v that has been turned on it’s side. It will help you hear the truth, and gain knowledge from all that you encounter. The second is called _Ansuz_ it looks like a slanted capital f. This will allow you to understand any language, including that of animals… both supernatural and not.” 

Stiles swallows and then feels a familiar heat and his muscles give out as the pain over takes his senses. He faints. He feels the familiar sensation of falling. He gently lands on a hard surface with the sun hitting his face. He moans as he wakes and stretches. 

Suddenly, the sun is blocked out and a cold chill runs through his body. The wound in his hand seals shut, and he tries to open his eyes. The pain behind his ear and at the base of his throat makes it difficult to move. 

A deep, rumbling voice shakes Stiles to his core. “So you are the Emissary. You’re a tiny little morsel. You’ll make a delicious addition to my feast.” 

Before Stiles can move or defend himself, a large cold hand touches his forehead and he starts to lose consciousness. The last thing he feels before he goes completely under is the searing, white hot pain that courses in his chest, as the connections to the Pack disappear one by one like lights going out. Every muscle in his body contracts in response to the loss, leaving him tensed and unable to move. 

When he wakes again, he is on cold, hard ground and a small hand is shaking his shoulder. He whimpers as he becomes aware of the pain wracking his body. A soft, tiny voice brings him fully awake. “Hey mister. Wake up.”

“Where are we?” he asks, as he sits up with his hand against his chest, like putting pressure on an open wound. He groans as he moves, still groggy from being knocked out. 

“Cave. It’s cold” comes a small voice near him.

Stiles looks around the dark cave and realizes he’s surrounded by four small children. They are all dirty and thin. They huddle around him. Thankfully, when he was taken, his hoodie was grabbed too. He puts it on and feels around for his phone. He sighs in frustration, when he realizes it’s gone. He holds out his arms and motions for them to come closer. They gather around him and lean into his warmth. 

“We will get out of this. I don’t know how, but we will.” he reassures them. 

“I highly doubt that, young Emissary,” a voice growls out. The dark figure standing in the cave opening laughs deeply. “You will stay here. I _will_ know if you leave. If you want a fire, you’ll have to build one.” The figure tosses some bread on the ground in front of Stiles as the figure passes by. He grabs it and portions it out to everyone, saving the smallest piece for himself. 

Once he’s done eating, he looks around and finds a pile of logs. Before he can gather what he needs, the sun sets adding to the chill and darkness of the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	9. Severed Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack jumps into action after Stiles is taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Noah Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski; _mentioned:_ Scott McCall, Melissa McCall,  
>  **Warnings:** severed Packbonds, angst, panic, magic use,

Peter is in the kitchen, when he feels Stiles’ pain filter through the Packbond. Moments later he feels Stiles panic. Before he can process it, he is brought to his knees by another sensation. One that has his heart beating wildly, and his eyes moving frantically trying to process what it means. He blinks and brings his wolf eyes forward and chokes down a guttural sound of complete anguish, when he sees the golden rope connected to Stiles is torn and frayed as if it were ripped away. 

Once he catches his breath and is able to stand, he realizes there is an annoying buzzing sound coming from the living room. It’s his phone. Texts are filtering through to the Pack group text and everyone is in a panic. It seems he isn’t the only one who felt the connection rip away.

He’s about to reply, adding his own confirmation, when his phone begins to ring. 

When he answers it, Isaac immediately starts speaking, not waiting for a greeting. _ “I don’t know why my first instinct is to call you, instead of Derek or Scott, but here we are.” _

“I have a theory about that, but it’s too soon to tell.” Peter responds. Isaac just hums.

_ “Has Lydia gotten in touch with anyone? Do you think she can feel his death from out of town? She wasn’t here to Packbond with him, so I don’t know how it works now.” _

Before Peter can respond, his phone beeps. He pulls it from his ear to see who’s calling. “Well speak of the devil herself.” 

_ “Can you answer and make it a group call?”  _

“Yes. Give me a moment.” Peter puts Isaac on hold and answers Lydia’s call, adding Isaac to the group.

_ “He isn’t dead,” _ she says as soon as Isaac’s on the line.  _ “I saw the texts. I’d know if he were dead. I’m packing now and I’m taking the first flight back. My mom will understand. If she doesn’t, then I’ll figure something out. Can you fill me in on what’s been going on since I left?” _

Peter and Isaac spend the next half hour taking turns explaining the kidnapped children, Stiles’ research, as well as what Parrish had told them. 

_ “Jesus, it hasn’t even been a full week,” _ she says, exasperation in her voice. She takes a breath.  _ “Okay, I need someone to gather everything he was working on. Maybe he missed something. Peter, if your family has their own bestiary and you can get your hands on it, please do so.” _ She pauses and Peter hears her take a couple of deep breaths again.  _ “If you can get his laptop and his copy of the Argent bestiary, do it. I’ll call Allison and have her talk to her dad and see if we can get any copies of other hunting family’s bestiaries if their are any. If I think of more, I will text you.” _

Before either of the wolves can respond, Lydia ends her call.  _ “Just how smart is she?” _ Isaac asks. 

Peter snorts. “Smarter than either of us will ever understand, pup.” Isaac hums in agreement.

They both hang up and Peter calls Noah. He picks up after the third ring.  _ “Talk to me.” _ is all he says. 

Peter fills him in. He can feel Noah relax a little, through the Packbond.  _ “Okay,” _ he replies, after taking a few calming breaths.  _ “What do you need me to do?” _

“We will need to get access to Stiles’ locker at school to make sure he didn’t leave any information there. And I’ll need access to all his research and his laptop.”

_ “I’ll get together everything from his room, so you can pick it up at any time. Talk to Scott about the keys. Stiles gave him a copy of all of his copies. He doesn’t think I know, but I do. He has a copy of all the school keys.” _

Peter makes and amused noise. “Of course he has copies of the school keys.” 

_ “Oh, he has copies of every major building in town, plus copies of the keys to everyone’s homes.” _

“Why does that not surprise me,” Peter muses. 

_ “He’s nothing if he’s not resourceful,” _ Noah says, amusement tinting his voice. Peter hears him take a shuddering breath.  _ “Peter, we need to bring my boy home. Please, bring him back to me safely. I don’t care what you have to do.” _ Peter’s heart breaks for the sheriff as he hears emotions flood the man’s voice.  _ “I just got him back from that damn Train Station. I can’t lose him again. Not like this.” _

“Sheriff, I will do everything in my power to bring him home. You have my word.” Peter knows that Noah didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t promise to bring him back alive. He isn’t sure he can make that promise and saying it out loud would make this too real too fast. 

_ “Okay. Do what you can.” _ Noah’s voice sounds small.

“You know I will,” Peter tells him.

Peter puts his phone back in his pocket after Noah ends the call, and grabs his keys. As he drives back to Derek’s, the silence in his car is deafening. 

* * *

After Stiles builds up the fire, the cave takes on an orange glow. He zips his hoodie up and wraps his arms around two of the smallest of the four kids. They huddle as close to the fire as they can, trying to stay warm. He’s horrified as he looks around at all of their faces. Their eyes have dark circles and their cheeks are sunken in. 

These kids need to eat and they need warm blankets. When he hears the deep purr of the sleeping cat at the back of the cave, he closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind. He focuses on his magic and sifts through all the information tied to it. _ Good to know it comes with its own user manual _ , he muses to himself. He latches on to the ability to pull objects from memories. He focuses his magic.

He remembers the sight, smell, and taste of chicken noodle soup and focuses on those sensations. He imagines there are 5 bowls of it. He imagines that the broth is thick and warm, the chicken cooked to perfection, the noodles plump and perfectly made. He imagines the vegetables that he loves, carrots and very small pieces of celery, both cooked until they are tender. He imagines how the smell of it makes him feel warm and safe and the taste brings back memories of his mom spending hours making it while he’s sick, so that he will feel better after eating it. He imagines how she carefully selected spices and herbs to flavor the broth. He opens his eyes when he hears a very quiet gasp. Sitting in front of each of them are large bowls of soup he just imagined. He smiles as he lifts one and tastes it and hums in approval as it is just like he remembered. 

He encourages the others to eat and helps them when they are too weak to keep lifting their bowls. When everyone is finished eating, he closes his eyes and remembers washing the bowls, drying them, and putting them away. When he opens his eyes, the bowls are gone. 

He thinks about the time he had a sleep over at Scott’s when he was younger. Before he lived in the house he’s in now, Scott lived in a small house with only two bedrooms. Because of this, Stiles had to sleep on the floor and because they didn’t have a cot for him to sleep on, Stiles had to sleep on a pile of blankets. Stiles pulls the blankets from those memories and remembers how warm and comfortable they were, and how they smelled. He remembers small details some of the blankets. The wool blend with the single cigarette burn on it from when a distant relative stayed over and borrowed it. The quilt that Melissa bought at a thrift store that had a square with the faded words ‘Congratulations Class of ‘84!’ embroidered on it. The fuzzy fleece blanket with Buzz Lightyear on it that Scott denies ever owning to this day. He keeps remembering all the blankets that he’s used in the past and when he’s done, there are enough for them to sleep on and enough to cover up with. He lays out the largest of the blankets, one top of the other along one of the walls, and hands out the smaller ones to each of the kids. Before they settle down for the night, he watches as they, one by one, walk around to a dark corner by the opening of the cave and then come back. He realizes they are going to the bathroom when one of them is still adjusting their pants as they walk back to the group. 

“Is that where y’all have been going potty?” he asks one of the older kids. 

They blush but nod. 

“That’s alright. This is a really bad situation and you have to do the best you can. Is it a hole, or a bucket?” 

“Its a hole the cat made for us. Every morning he makes it go away, like its new. Then he leaves and comes back around night time. This is the first time he came back before the sun went down.”

“That’s convenient. Okay, well I’ll be right back. Then we can go to sleep, okay?” they all nod at him in agreement. He realizes they are all afraid to speak too much. He suspects the cat did not like the noise.

He walks to the dark corner and finds the hole in the ground. He takes care of his own business and walks back. He lays down and motions for them to lay next to him. He takes their blankets and tucks them all in before pulling his own over his shoulders. 

He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time, and as he lays there, he focuses on his magic. He finds the place he can feel it goes to when he isn’t using it and he builds a wall around it. He pokes and prods until he is sure not a single drop can escape. When he is satisfied, he imagines a tiny door that only he can see, is in the wall. That way he can still access the magic, and it doesn’t seep out accidentally. 

He tries to repair the broken threads of his Packbonds but when he looks at each of the threads, the ends look like they are painted with a strange energy. As if they were dipped in glue. When he focuses on it, it looks blue and shimmers. He pokes at it and it shocks him. He swears under his breath and concludes that the Yule Cat put some type of shield around his Packbonds so that he can’t be found. He huffs in frustration. 

He rolls onto his back, trying to get comfortable. When he settles, one of the smaller kids snuggles up closer to him in their sleep. He sighs. He knows he needs to come up with a plan to try and get out of the cave and get the kids out without losing anyone. But he doesn’t have all the information yet. He hopes he can get some answers tomorrow. 

He finally dozes off as moonlight shines into the cave and lands a few feet from the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going.


	10. Tooth and Claw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter picks Lydia up from the airport, Stiles has a nightmare that shakes him to his core, and Peter remembers something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Lydia Martin, Melissa McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Demon Wolf, Yule Cat; _mentioned:_ Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Chris Argent, Noah Stilinski, Claudia Stilinski  
>  **Warnings:** angst, canon show level violence, body horror, violent dream

Peter takes Lydia’s bags from her as she pulls them from the baggage claim. She rolls her eyes as she resituates her carry-on on her shoulder. He promptly takes that as well. She smirks at him. 

They sit in silence as Peter drives. He assumes Lydia is lost in thought. He is pulled from his own when she takes a breath to speak. 

“We’re going to Stiles’s house.” it isn’t a question.

He hums in response and holds up a set of keys. 

“Those are his second copy of the keys he has.” Again, not a question. 

Peter hums again. 

“You waited until I was in town to go to his house to pick up his laptop and research material.” 

Peter doesn’t hum but he does make a noise to let her know she’s right.

“We are meeting the others at Derek's?” she asks.

“I told everyone who isn’t going to help to stay home. Scott already went to Stiles’s locker to pick up anything he left there. Allison is bringing any information she was able to get from Chris. Isaac is going to be there because he lives with Derek and will help us sort.”

“Mmm. Your voice did that thing it does when you are keeping something from me, when you mentioned Isaac’s name. What is it?”

“Can’t slip anything past you.” He smirks at her, without looking away from the road in front of him. “Isaac and I have Packbonded...but it’s stronger connection than what he has with Derek.” He pauses, not sure if he should tell her about Stiles’s dream or the connection between him and Stiles. She picks up on his reluctance. 

“Peter. Tell me everything. I can’t help if I don’t have all the pieces.”

He knows she’s right. He takes a deep breath and slowly blinks as he exhales through his mouth.

“It started the day he finished researching. I came over with breakfast, we ate, and he went to bed. He asked me to stay after I tucked him in. Wh-don’t look at me like that. We were fully clothed and just slept. After that, it gets more complicated than that.”

Lydia waits for him to continue. 

“We cooked dinner that night and we formed a Packbond. By ‘we’ I mean the Sheriff and I  connected to Stiles at the same time… Lydia, his thread is gold, intertwined with mine. It’s a very thick rope, instead of a thread. The Sheriff’s is gold, but not as thick.”

She arches her eyebrow in question. 

“I don’t understand it either, but I have a theory.”

Peter spends the rest of the ride explaining all the details he left out over the phone. Including Stiles’s dream and Isaac’s Packbond.

* * *

_“Stiles.”_

_He hears the voice calling his name but it sounds far away._

_“Stiles, honey.”_

_He feels his shoulder move. He blinks, trying to bring the world into focus._

_“Hmm?” He looks up at the familiar face in front of him. She looks younger than he remembers her being._

_“Stiles, I’ve been calling your name. The doctors are done in your mom’s room. She’s sleeping peacefully. You can go in and see her now.” Melissa smiles warmly at the boy in front of her._

_He just nods, eyes full of sadness._

_“Sweetie, look at me.” Melissa cups his face in her hand. “I know this is hard, but she can hear you, okay? Talk to her, it’ll help. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.” She caresses his cheek and nods at him when he looks at her with a questioning  expression._

_Stiles makes up his mind and nods at her again. He gets up and walks down the long hallway, while looking down at his feet. He keeps walking and walking, but the hallway seems to go on and on. He looks up and takes in his surroundings. He should have been at her door by now. He looks behind him and he realizes the hallway is even longer. The waiting room is long gone. He tries to open the door near him and its locked. He tries another one and it is also locked. He starts to bang on them, but no one answers._

_Frantic, he takes off running back the way he came and the hallway stretches out in front of him. He stops running when he realizes he isn’t going anywhere. He’s bent over, with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, when he hears a growl coming from behind him._

_He slowly looks over his shoulder and a large shadow passes by him, but he doesn’t see what made it. He slowly presses his back against the wall and begins to inch his way forward, while looking behind him._

_Suddenly the silence of the hallway is swallowed by the sounds of frantic voices and rapid footsteps running around. He blinks again and someone in scrubs runs past him, clutching their stethoscope. Phones are ringing and the noise of the hospital is getting louder._

_Another person runs by him wearing scrubs and he tries to get their attention, but no one seems to hear him. Before he can keep moving a body slides along the floor and crashes into the wall next to him. They are covered in blood and are missing an arm. Its Melissa._

_“Stiles. Run!” she manages to gurgle out, before her eyes close and she slumps over._

_He stands there, frozen. People are getting more and more frantic, running around. Screaming is now joining the shouting voices. He turns to run back down the hallway, trying to find his mom’s room again. He’s shaken out of his trance by another person knocking into him as they run past. He begins to run._

_What feels like every ten feet, he runs into another person covered in blood and half eaten. He realizes some of the screaming is his own. Most of the faces are familiar ones. Everyone he loves is being eaten while he just wants to find his mom’s room._

_A voice stops him in his tracks. “Well well well. Look what I’ve found. I knew I was saving the best for last.”_

_Stiles whimpers and presses his back against the wall again. He tries to move forward and a shape looms over him._

_“I wouldn’t move if I were you.”_

_He gulps and looks up. Towering over him is a dark shape covered in fur, with red eyes. The face shifts into one he recognizes, but something is wrong with it. It’s almost like the creature in front of him can’t keep the face in its proper shape and it keeps slowly morphing into one of a crazed wolf._

_“Mmmm. you smell delicious,” the creature wearing Peter’s face says._

_Stiles swallows thickly, as tears flow down his face. “Please,” he whispers._

_“What was that?” the creature asks, head tilted to the side, eyebrow arched in question._

_“Please. I just want to say goodbye to my mom.” Stiles’ lip trembles as more tears flow down his face._

_“No. I think I’m going to eat everyone you love and save her for last, just so you can watch.”_

_A sob escapes Stiles’ mouth. “No. Please!”_

_The creature in front of him begins to laugh. As it does, the face resembling Peter’s melts back into something barely resembling a wolf’s. Before Stiles can protest, the demon wolf runs down the hallway, taking bites out of, and ripping apart, anyone he crosses._

_When the creature is out of sight, the hallway returns to normal, but Stiles can still hear shouting and panic in other parts of the hospital. He takes a few breaths to calm his racing heart. He looks around to find the bathroom. When he walks in, he is surprised by what he sees._

_The boy in front of him is much younger than he feels, and is not wearing his signature plaid overshirt with a graphic t-shirt under it. He walks up to the mirror to inspect himself further. His face is smaller and rounder, his hair is longer and hanging in his face a little. He watches his mirror self as he sweeps his hair aside so it isn’t over his eyes._

_“Okay, this isn’t just a dream. Some of this is part of my memories. I’m actually a kid again.” he says to himself out loud. He starts pacing, tapping his chin trying to remember everything that happened the weeks leading up to the day his mother died._

_“Okay, a few days after Mom was placed in the long term ward, I was sitting in the waiting room,  waiting on Dad to join me so we could see Mom together. This was before she had her last episode where she thought I was trying to kill her.” Stiles closes his eyes, but keeps pacing, trying to think back to the day in question._

_“I was talking to Melissa about the room across from Mom’s. A man in the room that no one ever visited the entire time Mom was in the hospital. I was asking who he was, and why he was there. I thought it was sad that no one even sent him flowers.”_

_He keeps pacing, trying to focus on a memory that seems to keep slipping from him whenever he gets close. He goes over they day over and over and finally a face comes into focus._

_Stiles’ eyes open wide as realization dawns on him. The man in the room was Peter Hale. Stiles thinks back to the encounter with the demon wolf in the hallway. The eyes were red. “They couldn’t have been red, if that was Peter. Peter was still in a coma, and his eyes would have still been blue. I need to find Peter’s room.”_

_Stiles peaks out of the bathroom, looking both ways before he enters the hallway again. He cautiously starts to walk in the direction he was originally going when all hell broke loose. He passes the waiting room, as well as several other familiar doors._

_He pauses, taking a deep breath. As much as he wants to see his mom again, he knows that she’s just a memory. She won’t be able to talk to him or hold him, and he needs to see Peter laying the bed, to break the hold of the nightmare. He closes his eyes, and exhales. He opens the door to Peter’s room and walks in._

_Peter is laying on the bed, with his face partially obscured by bandages. He is hooked up to all kinds of monitors with tubes, and wires. Some for feeding him, some for oxygen, some for documenting his vitals._

_Seeing the wolf like this, injured and helpless, makes something in Stiles’ chest swell with emotion. He walks closer to Peter’s bed and caresses the man’s uninjured cheek, careful not to disturb the tape holding the feeding tube in place. Tears roll down his face as he stands there, next to the man he’s grown so close to over the last year._

_“Peter, it was never easy seeing you like this. But I remember now. I visited you every single day I came to see my mom, before she passed. I always saved a flower from her bouquet for you. The last day was the hardest, not only because I knew my mom was gonna die, but because I knew it’d be the last time you’d ever get any visitors. My dad was too wrapped up in his own grief to talk to me, and… and losing Mom almost broke me. I’m sorry I didn’t visit you. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have gone crazy and that nurse wouldn’t have been able to use you. I remember what I said to you that last day. I said, ‘I’m sorry I can’t come see you anymore. My mom is gonna die soon and I won’t come back here again. I’ll stay here as long as I can. Maybe someday I’ll see you again and you’ll be all better. Please don’t forget me.’”_

_Stiles shakes his head. “Peter, I’m so sorry I forgot you.”_

_Sobs wrack Stiles’ tiny body as he relives all the emotions from the last day he visited his mom. So many things he didn’t understand then click into place now. He picks up Peter’s hand and rubs his cheek against it, leaving his scent behind._

_“I swear to you, if I ever get out of that damn cave, I will be a better friend to you. You are my family. And nothing will change that. Especially not some magical cat trying to trick me into hating you.” Stiles brushes his lips against the back of Peter’s hand before he sets it back on the bed._

_Just before he turns around to walk towards the door, it slams open. An angry growl, so loud it shakes the bags hanging above Peter’s bed, comes from the hallway._

_“My my, you’ve been busy,” a garbled voice echoes across the room._

_Stiles turns around and faces the creature. Its shape keeps faltering, like it can’t keep up the glamour. The face glitches like a broken computer monitor and cycles through something that resembles Peter, the demon wolf, and a misshapen cat._

_“You can’t fool me. I know what you are, and you won’t make me hate him.”_

_“Hmm. Perhaps I need to try harder.” The creature takes on a contemplative expression while its features finally settle to that of a very tall, thin man, covered in fur, with large ears and wide grin. He looks like he’s stepped out of a cartoon. Stiles would laugh if he wasn’t so angry._

_“Nothing you can do will break me. I won’t give up my Packbond that easily. I won’t let you take him from me!”_

_“Perhaps not, but I can hurt you in other ways.”_

_Before Stiles can do anything, the creature in front of him leaps into the air, from the doorway and as it lands, it takes on the shape of a very large cat. It knocks Stiles aside and grabs Peter out of the bed with its mouth. Stiles screams as the cat throws its head back and tosses Peter in the air, opening wide and swallowing him down with a loud gulp. Stiles is still screaming as he runs towards the cat, throwing punches every which way. The cat takes a swipe and Stiles, throwing him across the room. His vision goes dark as his back and head collide with the wall and he slides down in a heap._

_The last thing he hears before everything is quiet again, is the sound of the cat laughing deeply._

* * *

Stiles wakes with a start and looks around him. He counts his fingers and sighs in relief when he only has ten. As he shakes off sleep, he carefully extracts himself from the kids that are piled around him and runs for the bathroom corner of the cave. He falls to his knees and heaves into it, emptying his stomach. He gasps as the last of it leaves him and he hangs his head trying to catch his breath. 

A small voice coughs behind him. “Are you okay?” they ask. 

“Yeah, I think so. I had a bad dream.”

He looks over his shoulder at the child standing behind him. Her name is Cassie and she’s the oldest of the four. She nods at him and holds her hand out. Stiles takes it and she helps him stand. He doesn’t protest when she wraps his arm over her shoulder, letting him lean against her. They slowly walks back to the bed he made and Stiles smiles at her, grateful for her help. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up” he whispers.

“Its okay. I was having a hard time sleeping anyways.”

Stiles nods and tries to gently move back into his spot. Cassie does the same, and they both close their eyes. Stiles eventually falls back asleep, thankful that he doesn’t dream.

* * *

Peter startles awake from a dream he doesn’t quite remember. The pillow under him is soaked with tears. The words _“Please don’t forget me”_ echo in his memory. Peter covers his face with his hands and sobs into them, the pain in his chest deepens as his heart breaks for reasons he doesn’t quite understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going.


	11. Peter Opens Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack digs deep into research, and Peter and Isaac take a short trip. Peter encounters an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin; Henry (OMC), _mentioned:_ Noah Stilinski, Aiden Steiner, Ethan Steiner, Jackson Whittemore, Satomi Ito, Kate Argent, Nurse Jennifer, The Hale Pack, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Melissa McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Claudia Stilinski,  
>  **Pairings:** Peter & Isaac, Peter & Henry (OMC)  
>  **Warnings:** Isaac’s eyebrows do a really good Derek impersonation, a little fluff, some emotional stuff, mention of Kate Argent, Peter recounts his experience after the fire - nothing gory or too detailed though,

Peter knows that some of the Pack are in the room with him. He dozed off on the couch a few hours after everyone arrived at Derek’s. He was just too exhausted and with a red-eyed glare from Derek, he laid down for a nap. 

He takes a deep breath and before he can look up at everyone in the room with him, he feels a presence in front of him. His nostrils flair slightly, scenting the air. 

“Isaac.” 

“Peter, are you okay?”

Peter nods, without looking up. 

Isaac kneels and places his hands on Peter’s shoulders and rests his forehead against Peter’s. Peter sighs and leans back a little. Isaac smiles and happy rumbles sound from his chest. 

“Thanks, pup. I’m okay. Just old memories, long forgotten, reminding me of what matters.”

Isaac raises his eyebrow a little but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes one of Peter’s shoulders before letting go and standing. Isaac holds his hand out and Peter takes it and allows Isaac to pull him to his feet. He smiles and walks to Derek’s dining room table where the others are sitting, going over the material. They are politely pretending not to notice the way Peter woke.

“What do we have so far?” Peter asks. He rests his hands on the backrest of a chair.

“My dad gave me copies of a journal sent to him from two brothers in Lebanon, Kansas. A guy out in Portland also sent my dad a copy of his books. It’s all in German but there are pictures. There doesn’t seem to be anything specific, but I am looking through all of their listings that involved Christmas related monsters. Maybe if I can find something they have in common, aside from the time of year, we can figure out how to kill this thing.” Allison smiles up at Peter, then goes back to reading through the stack of papers in front of her. 

“Fantastic. I can translate anything you need help with.” 

Without looking up, Allison nods.

Peter turns his attention. “Isaac, what are you doing?”

“I’m helping Lydia sort through all of Stiles’ notes and translations. I pulled up the pages he used to help him translate and she is correcting any mistakes.” 

“I’m also going to finish translating the rest of the book in case someone stuck some notes in there out of order.” Lydia chimes in, without looking up.

“Derek?”

“I’ve coordinated with Noah and he’s looking deeper into similar cases around the country. I called the Twins and Jackson to see if they can coordinate with anyone overseas to see if we can find some overlap.”

Satisfied, Peter pulls his keys from his pocket, and heads towards the door. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Isaac asks. 

“I’m going to go looking through all of our known warehouses and vaults to see if we have any of our own bestiaries. You are welcome to come along, if you want.”

“Ye--”

“No, he needs to stay here and help Lydia.” Derek frowns. 

“No he doesn’t. I’ve got it covered.” Lydia raises an eyebrow a Derek. 

“C’mon, pup. Lets go before the parents start fighting.” Peter motions for Isaac to follow him out the door and Isaac gets up and walks with him. 

Allison and Lydia both giggle as Derek’s frown deepens. He crosses his arms as Peter closes the door behind them. 

“Stop with the sour face, Derek. It’s good for them both to spend time together. Peter is reconnecting with everyone since he got back and he’s making an effort to be part of the Pack.” Lydia smiles at him, and his face softens a little.

“Alright. Back to work.” His smile broadens, easing the tension a little. 

Lydia blows air out of her nose in amusement and refocuses on what she’s doing. She has her laptop next to Stiles’ and she begins typing. 

* * *

Peter and Isaac sit in silence as Peter heads towards the road that leads past the Preserve. He can tell that Isaac wants to ask him about his dream, and why he woke up sobbing, but the pup is politely looking out his window instead. 

About an hour into the drive, Isaac inhales like he’s going to say something and Peter makes a pained noise in his throat, hoping to hold on to the silence a little longer.

Reading Peter’s mood, Isaac sighs. “Before you object, I wasn’t going to ask about that. I will say, though, if you want to talk about it, I’m here, but I won’t push if you don’t want to. I was actually going to ask where we’re going, because this looks like the edge of Beacon Hills.”

Peter weighs the heaviness on his chest and finds that he doesn’t mind if Isaac knows. Their Bond stayed strong, after Stiles’ was pulled from him. Leading him to believe that the Packbond hasn’t been truly severed, but magically altered. It also makes him believe that his Bond with Isaac makes him wonder if it has anything to do with the loss Stiles will experience eventually. 

Isaac coughs to get Peter’s attention again, and Peter sighs. 

“Before the meeting that started the war between all of the Packs and the Argents, I bought a little piece of land inside Satomi’s territory. I asked permission first. It holds all original manuscripts for  every book the Pack ever owned. The copies were all lost in the fire. It also has many heirlooms, and priceless artifacts. A lot of them magical. Derek doesn’t even know about this one. I want to keep it that way. In fact, the only people who know about this place now, are you, me, and Stiles. He’s never been there, though.”

“And you trust me to know?” Isaac quirks an eyebrow to emphasize his question.

“I trust that you know that if you tell anyone, you’d lose your tongue,” Peter says, voice flat. 

“That’s a pretty fair assessment, yes.” Isaac smiles. 

Peter snorts and reaches over and ruffles Isaac’s hair. 

They fall back into comfortable silence as the drive continues. After a while Peter sighs again. Isaac looks over at him, questions dancing across his eyebrows. Peter’s lip curls a little and muses “You have spent entirely too much time around Derek, if you can do that with your eyebrows.”

Isaac lets out a genuine laugh, one that sounds like music to Peter’s ears. He smiles warmly before he continues. 

“I know you know about the fire. I know that you know Kate Argent and her father are the ones who orchestrated it. I think you might also know what happened to me, after?” 

Isaac nods his assent. 

“When I was in the hospital, I was locked in my own mind. I couldn’t nod, blink, move, or otherwise acknowledge the world. I could smell and hear, however. The only thing I could feel was when the doctors touched me, the weight of my body on the bed, and every damaged cell slowly healing.” Peter swallows thickly. 

He takes a few calming breaths and continues. “All the exits to my home were blocked with mountain ash. That’s why we were trapped. The gasoline used to start the fire was laced with wolfsbane, so that when it burned, it tainted the smoke. The only reason I got out was because one of the explosions along the outside of the house broke one of the mountain ash lines and I was able to crawl to the woods. Everyone else was lost, and I wasn’t able to heal enough to go back in and save anyone.”

Peter sighs again, trying to curb the emotions he’s bringing up. Isaac puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder and offers him quiet support. He lets go when Peter continues, but keeps his hand close, just in case.

“When someone finally realized the smoke coming from the Preserve was from something much larger than just a small campfire, everyone inside was dead and I was in and out of consciousness. Fire and rescue found me clawing into the ground screaming. They described it as looking like a wild animal attempting to escape their own skin. They weren’t far off. I couldn’t even focus on the sounds around me. All I could feel was pain. I could feel Packbonds severing, one by one, as my family took their last breaths. Laura, Derek, and Cora were the only three I could feel.” Peter sniffles, slowly blinks, and a tear slips down his face. He wipes it on his shoulder and shifts his weight in his seat. 

Anger laces his next words, eyes slightly shimmering blue as he continues. “Eventually even those faded. I knew they’d left me in Beacon Hills as they moved on to somewhere else. I know they knew I was still alive. My Packbond with them was very steady. Once my Alpha left, I started to lose my mind. I was essentially an Omega. I had no Pack. I was injured, and I couldn’t heal properly because I had no power. It took an incredibly long time for the wolfsbane to leave my system, and by the time I started to actually heal, I was almost too far gone.”

Isaac looks like he wants to say something, but Peter shakes his head, wanting to get the next words out, uninterrupted. “In the beginning, I was in the long term care ward of the hospital. When I wasn’t asleep, I could hear the various voices of patients, staff, and visitors. One visitor was a little boy. He was there visiting his mother who wasn’t long for this world. I remember the day he asked who I was and why I was there, and why no one visited me. One of the nurses, who I now know was Melissa, explained it to him. After that day, he’d drop by my room, and leave behind a flower. 

The day his mother passed away was the last day he came to see me. I could hear the pain and sadness in his tiny little voice as he explained to me that his mother was in a coma and they were taking her off of life support so she could die in peace. He even apologized to me because he knew he wouldn’t be able to visit me again. I remember feeling him hold my hand and touch my uninjured cheek. The last thing he said to me was ‘Please remember me’.” Peter pauses and takes a shaky breath. 

“But that little boy had a life to get back to. His father had a very busy job, he also had to return to, and he barely had time to care for his son. Now I think his visits are what kept me sane in the beginning, and I think that the reason I didn’t kill him when I finally woke up and was out of my mind, was because some part of me recognized his scent, but I couldn’t remember why. It didn’t help that he was older and his scent was slightly different. The smell of sadness wasn’t as present, but there was fear. When I attacked Lydia, the smell of anger was the strongest, but the underlying scent was the same.”

When Peter stops talking again, Isaac’s eyes are large and swimming with unshed tears. “I had no idea it was that bad. Peter…” he sniffles. 

Peter sighs, trying to keep his own emotions in check. He loses it when Isaac speaks again. 

“The little boy… that was Stiles, wasn’t it? The reason why your Packbond is so strong. Why he was the one who had a hand in killing you. Good God, man, the Faytes are assholes. Jeez.”

“Yeah, well, that moment is where my respect for him began to build. He could have let his friends do all the dirty work. But he stepped up. He did what he had to. Stiles would have made an amazing wolf. In some ways, he really already is one, claws and fangs aside. I have no doubt that if he wasn’t so concerned with Lydia’s life, he’d have done everything in his power to try and hurt me that night on the football field, humanity be damned. I think he might have succeeded, had he tried.” Realization crashes into Peter like a wave. “In fact, I think the only reason he didn’t was because of Lydia. I could feel his Spark even then. And it was just safer and easier for me to threaten to end her life, than to see what he was capable of.”

Isaac is silent for a moment, digesting what Peter’s told him. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer me, though. But… why did you kill Laura when she returned? Why not wait and let her being close to you help heal you instead of killing her and taking the Alpha spark?”

Peter wants to lash out at the boy, but he knows Isaac isn’t asking to hurt him. He’s asking because he wants to understand.

He takes a deep breath and exhales sharply through his nose. “I didn’t know I was killing Laura until she was already dead.” He states, simply. He looks over at Isaac to judge his expression. Isaac is patiently waiting for him to give him more than that. 

“When she left and took Derek with her, that was as good as telling someone ‘you are no longer Pack and you need to leave’. Except _she_ left. So, I was an Omega. Packbonds didn’t reform when she came back. It didn’t help that the nurse who was watching over me, knew what I was from day one. My first full moon in the long term care ward was her first time caring for me. Apparently I had shifted and didn’t know. I couldn’t feel it; I was numb. But she stayed with me and wouldn’t let anyone into the room. After that night, she filled my head with nonsense. Telling me that my Alpha left me because she didn’t care if I lived or died. Anything to convince me that my Alpha was to blame for the state I was in. At first I resisted, but she was so instant that I eventually believed her. No one else was telling me otherwise, and I didn’t have Stiles’ visit to look forward to anymore. I was lost. She orchestrated the whole thing, including luring Laura back to Beacon Hills.”

“Why haven’t you told Derek any of this? He should know.”

“I tried. But I’ve lied and manipulated so much he doesn’t trust me… and honestly, I don’t fault him for that. It was just easier to be the asshole everyone believes me to be, than to show them my belly so to speak.” 

“Yeah but…”

“Its okay, Isaac. Derek won’t ever forgive me, but I came to terms with that a long time ago. Honestly, if it weren’t for Stiles, I’d still be the same asshole from all those years ago. It already feels like a lifetime, even without the whole coming back from the dead thing.” He pauses and then announces. “We’re here.” 

Isaac doesn’t push Peter anymore. He knows that that was Peter’s way to end the conversation, no matter how accurate the statement is.

Isaac looks out his window at their destination. It looks like an old junkyard. There are stacks of all sorts of metal things, wired together to make very tall walls. The entrance to the fortress is a sliding chain link fence with an electric lock. 

“Stay here, pup. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to enter. I haven’t been here in a very long time, and the keeper of this place can be less than friendly.”

“I thought you said you own this land?”

“I do, but I hired someone to guard it. I can’t just let this sit and not have it protected. Now wait here. I really don’t want to scrape your remains off the ground.” 

Isaac nods, nerves seeping into his expression.

Peter climbs out of his SUV and slowly walks to the gate. He looks up to the camera and closes his eyes so that the light flare doesn’t obscure his face. He then punches in a code on the number pad. Once the gate starts to slide open, Isaac hears a loud rumble. It feels like it’s coming from the ground. Instinctively Isaac bares his throat, closes his eyes and whines.

Peter doesn’t whine but he also bares his throat. He notes that the growl didn’t make him want to fall to his knees, like it usually does. 

He closes his eyes just in time for a very large bear to lumber out from behind the fence and stick its head out of the gate and sniff at Peter. Its head is almost as big as Peter himself. The bear sniffs Peter’s face and around his torso. It goes back to his neck and licks. Peter flinches at the slimy feel of it but doesn’t move. The bear roars in Peter’s face. It would look like a scene from a cartoon with the way his hair moves, were it not so terrifying. 

There’s silence for a few moments. Isaac opens one of his eyes and then closes it tight when the bear looks at him through the windshield. He lifts his chin even higher to put emphasis on the fact that he isn’t a threat and he doesn’t plan to be.

“You smell like dirt and rotting things, old man,” a gruff voice states.

“I was dead for a while, you ass, and I’m not old” Peter retorts.

“Hmmm. That certainly explains some things. You smell like a faded Alpha. What happened?”

“Henry, I hate that your sense of smell is so keen. I _was_ an Alpha. Then I died. Now I’m not.” Peter flashes his blue eyes to drive the point home. “Was it really necessary to _lick_ me? That was disgusting. And would you _please_ put some pants on?”

“Yes it was; you smelled off. I wanted to make sure it was really you. The only way to do that is to taste skin. You taste like you rolled around in some wet old leaves. And no... I won’t.” 

“I was _dead_!” Peter makes an annoyed face.

“Yes you said that.” Henry gives Peter an overly toothy grin. “Who's the pup?”

“That is Isaac. He’s one of Derek’s betas. Isaac, you can come out now.”

“He’s not gonna lick me, is he?”

“Only if you want me to.” Henry winks at him. Isaac proceeds to turn a deep shade of red.

Isaac doesn’t say anything as he exits the car and stands slightly behind Peter. He still wants to bare his throat to the man, but he fights it. Henry is a very tall and very imposing, true bear form aside. He towers over Isaac by at least two feet. It doesn’t help that the man is also very naked.

Henry chuckles at Isaac as he tries to bring his scent back down to normal by calming his nerves. He looks Henry in the eyes and doesn’t waver.

“That’s pretty impressive. Most pups have wet themselves by now.”

“I thought about it, but I knew Peter wouldn’t let me ride home with him if I did, and I really didn’t wanna run back with wet pants,” Isaac quips. His tone is serious but the glint in his eye gives away his amusement.

“I like this one.” Henry reaches over Peter’s head and ruffles Isaac’s hair. A happy rumbling builds in Isaac’s chest.

“Now. What brings you here, Peter? Must be something really important if you show up here without calling.” Henry turns around while talking and walks inside the gate. Peter and Isaac follow.

“It is important. I didn’t want to call because there were too many ears. Derek still doesn’t know about this place and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.” 

Henry snorts.

Peter clarifies, “It's not Derek I’m worried about. The less people know about this place the less likely someone can be tortured for information on it. There are a lot of dangerous items here. You know that better than anyone” 

“I thought it was because you didn’t think Derek was a good Alpha,” Isaac states, his tone playful.

“There was a time when I did think that, but not anymore.” Peter’s tone is serious, but then he smiles. “He’s still pretty emotionally constipated though. I wonder if he’s noticed the shift in Lydia’s scent when he talks to her.”

“Oh yeah. She smells like she used to when her and Stiles tried to make a go of it. Its stronger though.” Isaac muses.

Henry snorts again. 

“Something to add, Peanut Gallery?” Peter arches his eyebrow at the man’s back.

Henry shrugs and leads them to a door on the side of a small building. Isaac peaks over Peter’s shoulder and realizes that the building must be where Henry lives.

Henry turns on the light as he walks in and motions for them to follow. Once inside, Isaac takes stock of what’s around him. There’s a basic kitchen, spacious living area, and a small bedroom area. It's all one room. The bedroom area is partitioned from the living area by a couple of room dividers. They are made from old kennel panels with various metal junk pieces attached. He notices a couple of very old Chevrolet hubcaps mixed in. 

Henry motions to the couch and Isaac and Peter sit down. Peter takes the corner closest to the door and Isaac sits as close to Peter as he can without touching him. While they get situated, Henry busies himself with putting pants on and making drinks. When he’s finished, he sets a tray on the coffee table.

Before he sits, Henry hands Isaac a glass of what looks like orange juice. He sniffs it and his eyes light up. “It’s a screwdriver. How did you know?”

“I just… know things.” He smiles widely, proud of his drink choice for the pup.

Isaac just nods and lifts his drink a little in a small salute. 

Henry hands Peter an ornate tumbler with deep amber liquid. Peter sniffs it, snorts at the sharp scent and sniffs again less deeply. “Hmmm. I smell baked apple pie, rich hazelnut, and a little oak. Why Henry, you kept a bottle of my favorite apple brandy, after all this time?”

“Yeah man, shit’s expensive. Not to mention delicious. I’m glad we can’t get drunk off the stuff and can just enjoy the taste.”

“Aconite would ruin the flavor anyway.” Isaac notes. 

“I will toast to that.” Henry raises his glass, and Peter and Isaac follow suit. “Now that that’s out of the way, tell me everything; start from the beginning. And Peter, if you leave anything out, I will know.”

Peter closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows he is going to have to repeat everything he told Isaac about the fire, plus everything he’d been keeping secret about Stiles’ dream. He opens his eyes and exhales through his nose. 

When Isaac leans into him to offer some support, Peter begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	12. Time and Space is Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Isaac get started in the warehouse. Stiles gets the chance to talk to the children and gets to know them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Henry (OMC), Stiles Stilinski, Cassie (OFC), Sam (OFC), Elliot (OMC), Morris (OMC)  
>  **Pairings:** Stiles & the kids  
>  **Warnings:** death mention (Henry’s father, non-violent), intimidation, threat of harm, bonding,  
>  **A/N:** Did you catch the easter eggs in this chapter? :)

“...and now we’re here.” Peter finishes.

”That’s some shit, Peter,” Henry states, plainly.

“Understatement of two lifetimes, Henry”

Peter can sense Isaac’s emotions fluctuating, unable to focus on just one. He looks over to Peter and swallows thickly, eyes swimming with tears again. 

“I think you broke the pup, Peter. I take it he didn’t know some of that?”

“Yeah I hadn’t told him about Stiles’ dream yet. I don’t think any of the rest of the Pack knows how advanced his magic is either.”

“Well, I can certainly see why you need to see inside the warehouse. The creature you are hunting is more than likely waiting for Stiles to use his magic before it eats him.”

“Only if we are lucky. And we are never that lucky. We need to find him sooner rather than later.”

“And you” Henry turns his attention to Isaac. “Why are you here?”

Isaac finally takes his eyes off Peter and looks at Henry while he answers. “Peter invited me. I didn’t know he was taking me to his super secret lair. I just came in case he needed help looking through everything. Before we left, he made it seem like he was going to go to more than one and might need the extra hands to carry stuff.”

“So you aren’t interested in the artifacts I’m guarding?”

“I’m sure they might be interesting, but I don’t even know what you have in there and we don’t have time to go looking through all of it. I’m only interested in saving Stiles.”

Henry holds out his fist and opens it a little so a set of keys on a long chain hangs from his grasp. Peter reaches for it but before he could take it, Henry draws it back a little. “Peter you know the deal. Only take what you specifically need. Nothing else, or I will take your head off before you can even set foot out of the gate. Same goes for your pup.”

“I understand” they say together.

Henry nods in approval and drops the keys into Peter’s hand.

The three of them stand and make their way towards the door. Peter falls into step beside Henry. 

“How’s Jack doing these days?” he asks.

Henry just flashes his blue eyes at Peter. 

“I’m sorry, Henry. Your father was a good man.”

“Yeah he was. He wanted to go before he lost his ability to talk. He just didn’t have the strength to administer the morphine himself. He told me loved me, was proud of me, and he thanked me for helping him for the last time. I gave him enough to fall asleep, and then he was gone right after.”

“It's no small thing to be able to choose your own end.” Peter says, solemnly.

Henry hums his agreement.

The rest of the walk to the warehouse is done in silence. The emotions lacing the air around the three of them is quiet and contemplative, but not heavy. Once they are within ten feet of the door, a very bright motion sensor controlled light comes on, causing the three of them to squint. 

“That’s new.” Peter remarks. 

“Yeah had some vandals try and break in a few years back. I have a remote in my pocket that I used to disable the high frequency sound that turns on when the lights are triggered. Deters just about anyone. Humans aren’t strong enough to break in.” 

Peter just hums in response.

 “Alright. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, please yell for me. I’ll hear you.” Henry turns and walks back to his apartment.

Peter unlocks the door and swings it open. He reaches in and turns on the light and the room stretches out in front of them. It appears to be much larger than it did when they first approached it. 

“Just how big is this place?” 

“It’s under an expansion spell, so as big as I need it. Thankfully I was smart enough to do a spell that wouldn’t fade if the caster died, or we’d be in a whole heap of trouble. The building would have burst open if the spell faded.” 

“Wait, you can do legit magic? Not just ‘save your ass’ magic?”

“Contrary to popular belief, we don’t need Emissaries to do magic. It's just a lot easier if we have them. Some werewolves can do almost as much magic as any druid or mage. I mean I brought myself back from the dead… as a ghost. I had no idea I could do that, but my will to live was so strong, the magic worked anyway because I _believed_ it would.”

“So you mean to tell me if I wanted to do magic, aside from the teeth and claws, I could?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think you have any more magic than that. Some of us don’t. However, I do know you gained control over your abilities a lot quicker than anyone else, including Scott. That isn’t something to sniff at. You’ve come a long way from that scared teenager.”

Isaac grins at the praise, perfuming the air with sweet notes. Peter tilts his head and scents the air. He smiles back when he realizes that Isaac smells the way Talia use to when their parents would praise them. 

“Come on, pup. We have a lot of books to sort through. It’s going to be a very long night.”

* * *

Stiles feels a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He jolts awake and looks around, a little disoriented. 

“What’s going on?”

“The cat doesn’t like us to be asleep when he wakes up and it's almost dawn. He’ll be awake soon,” one of the kids tells him. 

Stiles nods. 

He looks around the cave and sees that all the blankets he wasn’t using were out of sight. As soon as he gets up to fold his own, the two oldest kids jump up and get to it before he can. They show him where they hid the blankets. There’s another rock formation near where the bathroom spot is, and all of the blankets are behind it. 

“That’s smart,” he praises. 

Both children nod.

Once the blankets are put away, they all sit in silence, waiting for their captor to wake up. Stiles observes them and takes note of what he can offer them once the cat leaves the cave. Their clothes are dirty and all of them desperately need baths. He suspects the youngest wet their pants at least once before the cat put in the hole in the ground. They are all underfed. The only thing that improved a little is the dark circles under their eyes. Being able to lay on soft blankets and warm up helped them sleep a little better, as did having a belly full of food. 

Stiles continues to make a list, and as soon as the sun starts to filter into the cave, there is noise in the back as the cat begins to wake. They hear the sound of nails raking across rocks and they huddle closer to Stiles. He looks up and watches the cat walk towards the mouth of the cave and pause in front of the hole in the ground. Stiles swears he hears the cat laugh under his breath before the cat’s eyes start to glow. He can’t see what happens to the hole but he suspects the cat is doing just what the kid said it would; getting rid of the waste and making it clean.

When it finishes, the cat changes shape. The man-shaped figure looks at Stiles, and smiles widely. “You can try to leave, but I’ll know. If you want everyone to stay safe, you’ll stay put.” He cackles gleefully. “If you _do_ try to push past the barrier, I’ll kill one of them and make you watch.” Satisfied, it grins, showing too many teeth, and it walks out of the cave.

Stiles watches, and notices that the barrier ripples like water as the cat passes through. He files that away for later.

Once he can no longer hear the creature’s footsteps, he gets to work. He stands and goes to the hole to do his business. He realizes that there isn’t anything to clean himself with and sighs loudly. He can’t imagine how gross and dirty the kids feel not being able to do this very basic thing. He clears his mind, opens the door where he’s walled off his magic and pulls a little out. Then he begins to imagine a pack of baby wipes. He doesn’t know anyone’s allergies so he pictures a brand he knows is good for that. He digs deep down into his memories for a time when he used them and goes through the same steps he took when bringing the soup out of his mind. The pack of wipes appears and he takes care of his business.

With that taken care of, he builds a fire and, once it’s going strong, he puts the used wipes under the bottom most logs so they’ll burn. The kids are all watching him in curiosity. 

“Okay, I know this situation sucks, but I’m trying my best to make it better. Next to the potty hole are some baby wipes. Clean yourselves up once you go, and bring the used wipes out here. It’s okay if you use a lot, I can always make more. If anyone needs help, let me know and I’ll do what I can.” 

The kids all nod and take turns going behind the rock formation. When they come out, Stiles uses a stick to poke the wipes into the hottest part of the fire so they’ll burn without leaving a trace. As each child finishes, he takes stock of what each one is wearing. He pulls his magic forward and tries to replicate each thing. When he gets to making undergarments he pauses. He doesn’t actually know what little girl underwear looks like, and he doesn’t want to go through the awkwardness of asking. He shrugs and pictures what he knows and sticks with boxer shorts. One by one he creates new clothes for them. All identical to their old clothes. One by one he hands out their clean clothes and one by one, they each go back behind the wall to change. 

The dirty clothes are too big and bulky to burn so he pictures a much larger firepit and once the fire in front of them expands, he throws the clothes in, making sure the check all the pockets before he does. He concentrates his magic into his hands and feels them heat up. Fire is just another kind of light so he pictures it getting hotter and incinerating the clothes. They are ashes within moments. All of the kids look on with wide eyes but remain quiet. When he’s done, the firepit returns to normal size and the flames go back to their normal heat.

He sits back and sighs. Everyone looks considerably warmer and more comfortable. 

“Can I ask you guys some questions? Is that okay? I know the monster doesn’t like you all to talk but he isn’t here right now.”

They all nod at him. 

He looks at the oldest child. “Maybe you could go first, if you want? What’s your name? How old are you? How long have you been here? Is there anything you need me to make for you, like medical stuff?” He knew each one of them, because he studied each case file, but reading it and seeing the children in person are two different things and he wants to know who they are, beyond the paper.

“I’m Cassie. I’m 12. I’ve been here the longest, but I don’t think any of us have been here that long. Every couple of days the monster would go out and bring another one of us here. Um… I don’t think I need anything specific. You gave me clothes and stuff to clean up with. I think we all just need some food.”

The rest of the kids nod in agreement.

“I’m Sam. I’m six. I have been here longer than the other two, but not as long as her.” she says, pointing at Cassie. 

Stiles waits to see if he’ll say more but he doesn’t. “Okay, who’s next?”

“Me. I’m Elliott. Friends call me El. I’m 10. I came after Cassie and Sam. I don’t need anything medical, but I sure could use a comb!” He grins and takes off his knit cap to show his unruly curls. Stiles smiles at him as the boy puts his hat back on.

He nods to the last child. They take a deep breath. “My name is Morris. I’m 8. I was the last to get here.” 

Stiles looks around at the kids and takes a deep breath. He wishes he could Packbond with them, so they’d know they are okay and that he’s going to get them out of here alive. He makes a promise to himself to get them out even if he doesn’t make it. 

He digests what everyone has told him, even though it wasn’t much. Then something clicks in his mind. “Cassie? You said you guys haven’t been here that long. Do you know how much time has passed since you were taken?”

She looks around at the other kids and then looks down at her hands and counts out. “I think its been 8 days? I can’t be sure because the days sorta run together. But counting today, I think that it’s 9.” Her eyebrows scrunch together giving Derek’s a run for their money. Stiles wants to laugh but he knows the girl won’t understand, and he doesn’t want her to think he’s making fun of her.

“That’s okay, it’s been a hard few days.” Stiles wants to tell them they have been here a lot longer than just over a week. He sighs, frustrated. If time passes differently here, there’s no telling what day it actually is. He’s even more unsettled by the fact that the kids appear to be older than he remembers them in their files. Time is definitely weird, here.

He clears his throat. “Alright, who wants breakfast? How does toast and eggs sound? What do you want to drink?”

“We’ve just been drinking from a small pool of water at the back of the cave. It isn’t in the monster’s den so he doesn’t get mad when he can smell us there. I think it’s a natural… what’s it called? Water drips in it from the outside,” Cassie answers.

“A spring?” Stiles asks.

“That’s it!” She looks delighted that Stiles knew what she meant.

“Okay, do y’all want anything other than that? Juice, milk, something else? If it’s fancy you’ll have to describe it but otherwise if its something I’ve had before, I can make it for you.”

Morris’ cheeks turn pink and he looks down at his hands. The move doesn’t go unnoticed by Stiles. 

“What is it, Morris? You can tell me.”

“Um.. can I have some hot chocolate? I haven’t had some in a long time.”

“Sure, bud. I can make you some. Just so happens my mom made the best hot cocoa ever. She used real marshmallows and real chocolate in steamed milk. Just a touch of cinnamon and a tiny bit of ginger. Warmed me right up on a cold winter day.” As Stiles talks, he holds his hands out and when he’s done, a steaming mug of hot chocolate appears. 

He hands the mug to Morris who sips it, skeptical of its taste. He grins from ear to ear when the flavor explodes across his tongue. “You guys should have some!” he exclaims excitedly. 

The other kids perk up a bit and look eager. “Does everyone else want some too?” Stiles asks. They all nod in response, smiles on their faces. 

He concentrates on making the hot chocolate appear and while the kids enjoy their drinks, he begins working on creating food for them all. Once he does, everyone eats in silence, humming their appreciation for the meals. 

When they’re done eating, Stiles cleans up the dishes. He isn’t sure what to do with his time, so he just ends up doing what he does best: talk. 

Between breakfast and the time the cat is suppose to return, the five of them talk. Stiles gets to know the kids a little better and by the end of the night, they seem to trust him more than they did before. While they talk, Stiles makes a comb for El and Cassie helps comb his hair out. She then braids it, to keep it from getting too tangled again. As the sun moves across the sky, Stiles realizes it is probably time for lunch. He asks them what they want for lunch and goes through the steps of making it for them.

While they are eating, Cassie’s eyebrows scrunch together. Stiles notices and looks over, waiting for her to collect her thoughts. 

“I have a question.” She looks at him expectantly.

He nods for her to continue.

“Can you understand the creature? Cuz it only sounds like it’s growling at us.”

“Really? I hear it speaking English. It doesn’t do that with any of you?” He looks around at the kids and they all shake their heads ‘no’. “Huh.” Stiles touches the rune behind his ear.

They all finish their meal in silence. Stiles lets his mind wander a bit.

Time seems to pass rather quickly and before they know it, the light is fading from the sky and a shadow swallows the mouth of the cave. 

The dark figure walks in and tosses a loaf of bread on the ground in front of Stiles and walks back to its living space. It pulls a large piece of meat from seemingly nowhere and lays down and tears into it. Stiles looks at it and figures out that what its eating is a large deer leg. He wrinkles his nose.

Stiles stokes the fire and waits for the cat to fall asleep so he can make dinner and pull the blankets out for bed. The moon is well overhead by the time the cat decides to settle in for the night. Stiles waits a while longer to hear the purring rumble of sleep from the creature before he even attempts to use his magic. 

While he makes them all a hearty beef stew to dip their bread in, and orange juice to wash it all down with, the kids pull the blankets out and spread them on the floor the way Stiles had done the night before.

Once everything is ready, they settle in and eat in silence. Everyone eats slowly so they can enjoy the meal. After they are done eating, Stiles wills the dishes away and, just like they did the night before, they take turns using the bathroom. Each one takes a little longer than they did the night before so they can clean up. As before, Stiles burns the baby wipes to ash. They tuck into their blankets and the kids pile in close to him, he makes sure his magic is secured behind the wall he created and locks the door he imagined. 

Stiles waits until he hears the sounds of sleep taking over each of the kids. When they are all making sleeping sounds, he finally lets his eyes drift closed. He hopes he doesn’t have any nightmares this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Schedule: Posting will be moved to Monday, until further notice.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going.


	13. The Warehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Isaac finish up in the Warehouse, and admit some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Henry (OMC)  
>  **Pairings:** Peter & Isaac

Peter sets the keys down on a small table next to the door, picks up a thick stack of sticky-notes,  then walks over to the wall closest to the door. He waves his hand over it, as if wiping away dust, and the largest bookshelf Isaac has ever seen materializes. Almost all of the books are older looking and bound in leather with gold leafing. Only a small number of the books look modern. He doesn’t say anything but Peter can smell his surprise. Peter just smiles.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” Isaac asks.

“How about you stand behind me and I’ll stack the books in your hands?”

“I can do that.” Isaac reassures. 

Peter thumbs through every book on the shelf and swiftly plucks several from their places. By the time he’s done, Issac has had to put several armfulls on the floor. Once Peter’s satisfied that he’s pulled what he needs, he grabs one more small book and sets it on the table where he set the keys.

One by one, Peter opens the books, selects a page, and uses a sticky-note to mark it. Once he’s done, he picks up a handful and walks over to a copy machine that Isaac hadn’t noticed earlier. Isaac picks up another pile and does the same. 

They go through each book and tediously make copies of every page Peter’s bookmarked, removing the sticky-note, and then piling the books back up next to the bookcase. 

Several paper tray refills, one toner cartridge change, and a meticulous restacking of sticky notes later, they’re done. Isaac pulls out his phone to check the time and is surprised to see that several hours have passed. 

“Holy shit, we’ve been doing this all damn night. Why is time so  _ weird _ . It feels like we’ve been looking for answers for  _ months _ instead of  _ a little over a week. _ ” he notes.

“We need to put all the books back, then we’ve got one more thing to do before we can leave. It’ll take a while, too.” 

Isaac sighs and rolls his eyes. “Of course it will. Also, we missed New Years. We’ve been so caught up in looking for answers and chasing leads that we forgot to celebrate.” He pauses and then sighs. “But it wouldn’t have really been a celebration since Stiles and the kids are still missing.

Peter doesn’t respond to the part about Stiles, but he does decide to poke a little fun at Isaac for his exasperation at taking more time in the warehouse. “Aw, come on, Isaac. Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying spending time with me.” Peter smirks.

Isaac looks him over and tilts his head a little. “Honestly? I never thought I would. You are always so sarcastic and kinda rude. You are attractive but you always have this expression on your face that dares someone to figure out what you’ll do if they dare to trust you. If it weren’t for the Packbond, I don’t think I’d have  _ ever _ fully trusted you. But now? I think I’d do  _ anything _ to save your life. I don’t know if you’d ever feel enough for me to do the same, but you are one of the smart ones in the Pack, Peter. If it came down to choosing between having to save you or save Scott, I’d save you first.”

Peter isn’t sure what to say to the pup. He blinks rapidly, a few times, trying to process it. He hasn’t known loyalty like this in a very long time and he is actually speechless. Before he can even try to come up with anything, Isaac grabs a tall stack of books and makes his way back to the bookcase and begins to arranged them back in the order Peter first placed them. 

When he walks back to get another stack, he smiles and nudges Peter in the side with his elbow. Its enough to pull Peter out of his own head and he grabs an armful of books. Once all of them are stacked close to the bookcase again, Isaac sits next to it, while Peter puts them back on the shelves. Another hour passes, while Isaac plays on his phone. He gets up, once, to find a bathroom, then comes back and sits down again. Ten minutes later, Peter’s finished reshelving the books.

“Alright, what’s next?” Isaac asks.

“Now we have to walk through the isles and check each tag under the items and see if we can find something to help Stiles. Look for anything Christmas or Yule themed. Each label has a QR code on it, so just scan that and all the info, including its location, will come up. Scan anything you think we can use.”

“Sounds easy enough.” 

Peter nods at Isaac.

Peter starts on one side and Isaac on the other, and they silently move through the warehouse. Isaac guesses that it's almost as large as a football field, maybe more. It only appears to be large enough to hold six cars, when viewed from the outside. By the time they meet in the middle, another several hours has passed. Neither have come up with anything that might help them.

Peter looks a little dejected, and Isaac’s scent has soured a little. Isaac decides to gather up all the papers from the table next to the copier and put them in a folder. While he does this, Peter makes his own bathroom pit-stop. Once he comes back out, both are ready to go. Peter grabs the book he left on the table with the keys, takes one last look around, and opens the door. He ushers Isaac out and turns the light off. He locks the door and they head back to Henry’s living space. 

Before Peter can knock on the door, Henry walks out and looks them over. 

“Find everything you need?”

“You’d think that I’d find something in there to help, but there was nothing. Hopefully something we copied will help,” Peter says, annoyance lacing his tone. 

Henry just nods as Isaac lifts the folder to show him. Then his eyes fall on something in Peter’s hand.

“You really love that boy if you are gonna give him that book," Henry says, and nods at the book Peter’s holding.

"I think it's time it returns to its rightful owner," Peter responds.

Henry's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait. He's  _ that _ Mieczyslaw?"

Peter nods and smiles. The first one to reach his eyes in a very long time.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, old man. This might be the catalyst,” Henry states, his expression solemn.

“I know,” is all Peter says.

During this exchange, Isaac’s scent has become heavy with confusion and slight anxiety. He wants to ask but he can feel through the bond, that Peter won’t tell him, so he just swallows his question and sighs. Peter can feel all this as well and smiles warmly at Isaac, enjoying the feeling of someone trusting him completely.

“Alright. I think it's time for us to go,” Peter says. He extends his free hand. “Henry, it's always a pleasure to see you. Hopefully I’ll see you again sometime soon.”

“Oh you can count on it,” Henry says, as he shakes Peter’s hand. 

Henry walks the two visitors to the gate entrance. He punches in a code and they hear the electronic sound of the lock disengaging before it slides open. Before they walk through, Henry hands them both bottles of water and pats them on the back. 

Peter opens his car door, slides the book under his seat before climbing in. Just as Isaac gets comfortable in his own, he hears Peter whisper something in Latin and sees a faint glow comes from below Peter’s seat. Once the glow goes away, Isaac looks between Peter’s feet with his wolf eyes and can see a faint shadow surrounding the gap where the book sits. When he lets the gold in his eyes recede, the gap under Peter’s seat disappears and it looks like it’s part of the seat itself. 

“You glamoured it.”

“Very good, pup.”

“Just how much magic can you do?” Isaac asks.

“Not a whole lot, to be honest. I don’t really like people knowing what my skill levels are as far as that goes. But I can do a few spells. Coming back from the dead was the most complicated spell I’ve worked, aside from the one that affects the warehouse. The rest are pretty much superficial things, like glamouring.”

Isaac hums in acknowledgement.

Peter starts the car, pulls out of the parking space, and heads back towards the way they came. For the most part, the drive back is quiet. Isaac falls asleep about an hour after they leave Henry’s, and Peter lets his mind wander. 

By the time they get back to Beacon Hills, the sun is beginning to peak over the edges of the world and as they pull into the parking lot in front of Derek’s loft, the sun is just hitting Isaac’s face. He makes a soft sound of protest before he opens his eyes and blinks a few times. 

“Come on, pup, we’re home again.” 

Isaac sighs and climbs out. He grabs the folder containing all the copies they made, and heads for the door. Peter locks the car and joins him. 

The ride up the top floor is quiet. Both wolves are exhausted. On autopilot, Isaac opens the loft door, walks to the dining room and sets the folder down on the table. He walks over to one of the couches, collapses onto it, and falls asleep.

Peter goes to a closet and grabs some blankets and pillows. After putting his own on the other couch, he gently pulls a blanket over Isaac, and then carefully puts a pillow under his head. The younger wolf mumbles something under his breath that Peter swears sounds like “thanks, dad,” and snuffles against Peter’s arm before he can pull his hand away. Peter’s eyes sparkle with a smile that doesn’t touch his lips. He pulls Isaac’s shoes off and sets them on the floor next to the couch. 

He goes to the fridge and makes a couple of sandwiches, puts them in a Tupperware container with a large handful of potato chips, and sets it on the coffee table in front of Isaac, along with a bottle of water. He then makes his own. After he eats, he makes sure that Derek’s door is locked. He then he sets his own pillow on the unoccupied couch, takes his own shoes off, lays down, pulls the blanket up to his chin, and gets comfortable. He falls asleep almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm so sorry this is almost a week late. I am chronically ill and had a bad illness flair. Next chapter will be posted a week from this coming Monday because of how I post things on other social media sites. Thanks for your love, support, and patience. ❤
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	14. Old Wounds, New Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes in a familiar room, to a familiar face. Bad things happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski  
>  **Warnings:** (nothing is overly graphic but it is there): violence, torture, blood, betrayal

Stiles feels like he’s falling. He starts to smile, hoping this will mean that he’s going to see Nemo again. That hope is dashed as he feels himself tumble down something sharp and pointy. He tumbles down some more before he can open his eyes. Looking up, he realizes he’s been pushed down a flight of stairs into a basement. A very familiar basement. 

He finds the light a lot faster than he did the first time he was in this room. He looks around and is surprised to find the ropes, handcuffs, and generator set up like he remembers… but Boyd and Erica aren’t hooked up to them. The floor, cuffs, and rope are covered in blood, but it looks old. Rusty brown, like its been sitting for a while. There is a layer of dust on everything.

The house is eerily quiet. He doesn’t even hear the ever present sounds of a settling foundation or creaking floors. Sounds that indicate the home is lived in and occupied. Even when no one’s home, a house still sounds alive. This one sounds like its been abandoned. Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if he went upstairs to find hot meals on the table like someone sitting down for dinner just up and disappeared mid bite.

He walks around the basement, taking in its differences. The things around the room appear to be blurry around the edges. Almost like someone is trying to create all the details from a foggy memory…

“Or like someone made this from the small details you don’t notice because you are seeing it from your peripheral,” Stiles says out loud.

“You’ve always been the smart one,” A familiar voice muses. “But then again, the rest aren’t really working with much to begin with, so that isn’t anything all that special.”

Stiles turns around and his eyes go wide in surprise. “Peter?”

“You were expecting someone else?”  
  
“Well, yeah.”

“Let me guess, you were expecting that creature that kidnapped you?” Peter smirks. “No, I think it learned its lesson last time.” Peter licks around his elongating canines as they grow and his face slowly morphs into a toothy grin.

Stiles backs up a little as Peter steps forward. “Why are you here, Peter? Why are _we_ here? In the Argent’s basement, of all places?”

“Why not? It’s a place you hate. It caused you a lot of pain. Left behind a lot of… scars.” At Peter’s final word, Stiles finds himself sitting in an office style chair, arms bound, and he’s shirtless. 

“Seem familiar?” Peter asks. “I thought it fitting to bring you here, since this is where your bond to Scott first wavered. Do you remember? He didn’t even ask you if you were okay, when you showed up. You were standing right next to him and he didn’t smell the blood of your wounds. Not because he couldn’t, but because he didn’t want to. You didn’t even tell him your ribs were broken.” Peter hits Stiles where his ribs had broken the night Gerard beat him.

Stiles cries out as the force of the impact causes them to crack. 

“Poor defenseless Stiles.” He takes a deep breath. “But you aren’t, now, are you? You are a Spark. You have _powerful_ magic. Don’t think I don’t know what those runes mean. I know you know how to get out of here.” Peter holds his hand up in front of Stiles’ face, forcing his werewolf claws to grow.

Stiles’ expression changes to one of panic as Peter delicately traces over several scars that stretch across his chest with the tips of his claws. He doesn’t break the skin, but Stiles knows it won’t take much pressure.

“Where should I cut you first? Here?” He pushes a little harder as he runs his claws over Stiles skin. “Or maybe here?” He moves his hand to a different scar and presses a little. “No. I think here. Where you can’t hide it.” Peter swipes the claw on his index finger along Stiles’ right cheek. So fast Stiles doesn’t feel the pain until the blood wells up and seeps out. The cut is small, but deep. Stiles grits his teeth and almost growls.

“Mmm, interesting. You know you can stop this?” He pauses, waiting for Stiles to do something. When he doesn’t, he takes another swipe at Stiles. This time, Stiles saw it coming and yells out as the deep cuts on his shoulder wells up and bleeds freely. “Such a shame, marring that beautiful skin of yours. Then again, it is already full of so many ugly scars. What’s a few more going to hurt? Oh. Right. You.” Peter seems to find his own joke hilarious and laughs, showing way too many teeth. 

Stiles has never actually heard Peter deep belly laugh before, and the sound feels off. Almost like a poor quality download of an audio file. Kind of tinny and far away. Stiles stares past Peter, trying to figure it out. Peter seems to pick up on the gears turning in Stiles’ head and takes another swipe at him. 

Caught completely off guard, Stiles screams as the long cut on his leg swells with blood. 

“Oh this is fun. I’ve been waiting a long time to do this. All those times I _took your pain_ ,” another swipe. “All that time I’ve had to _put up with you_. Every time you ran your mouth, every _fucking_ tick, every word grating on goddamn nerves..” each word followed by a swipe. “That time I _burned_ for you,” another swipe. “Every time I had to _pretend to like_ you,” swipe. “ _Care_ for you,” swipe. “ _Love-”_ swipe. _“You.”_

By the time Peter’s done Stiles is covered in blood and sobbing. “Liar!” is all he can say before Peter takes another swipe at him, adding to the wounds on his legs, shredding his pants further. 

“You know, tears or blood, I really don’t care what falls from you. Just so long as you’re in pain, I’ll be _ecstatic_.” He takes another swipe across Stiles’ torso. 

Peter lifts his hand to take another swipe as Stiles’ shredded flesh. Stiles manages to rasp out “No please... I’ll do anything,” begging him not to add more wounds.

“Tell me you hate me. Tell me I’m not Pack. Tell me I’m a monster,” Peter growl out.

“I-- I can’t. Please. Peter… No… please.” his voice fading as he speaks.

Peter squints and instead of saying anything, he grabs Stiles’ shoulder and spins him around so the chair is facing away from him. Before Stiles can say anything, Peter breaks the back off the chair and rakes his claws down both sides of Stiles’ back, from shoulder to hip. Stiles screams so loud his throat goes hoarse. Peter laughs deeply as Stiles’ vision goes black.

* * *

Stiles wakes with a gasp and tries to sit up. He cries out when his body protests. He brings his hand up and counts his fingers, relieved to only see five. 

“Oh god! There’s so much blood!” he hears Cassie yell, as hands push him down. “Hurry, press down on the scratches. We gotta stop the bleeding! Grab that blanket.” He hears ripping and something tighten around his leg and one of his arms

He feels weaker and weaker as a shadow passes over him and he hears a deep laugh. His vision goes black as he sees Cassie and the other kids being dragged away from him. He tries to reach out for her hand but she’s pulled out of his grasp as his hand falls to the ground. Before he loses consciousness, he hears someone screaming but he isn’t sure who it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	15. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens to Peter. The Pack dives deep into research using the copies Peter and Isaac made at the Warehouse. Finally some answers are found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Melissa McCall, Mason Hewitt, Yule Cat, Stiles Stilinski; _mentioned:_ Alan Deaton,  
>  **Warnings:** pain, very brief (non-sexual) nudity, magically induced wounds, mention of blood

Peter wakes with a startled gasp. Then the pain hits and he cries out just before he faints. Isaac is by his side and is trying to wake him. Peter’s body is heating up and he’s starting to sweat. Isaac calls for Derek. The pain coming through his Packbond with Peter is making it hard for him to talk.

Isaac groans as he falls to his knees. At the same time, Peter whimpers and his smell turns sour. Derek lifts his uncle and carries him to the bathroom and sets him in the tub. He shreds his clothes, leaving him in his underwear and turns the shower on. A strangled growl comes from Peter’s throat as the icy spray hits him, but he doesn’t wake up. 

Minutes tick by as the water cools Peter down and he slowly comes to, whimpering. Isaac slowly walks into the bathroom, as if his joints ache and sits down on the closed toilet groaning in protest. Derek leaves to get Peter some new clothes. 

Isaac watches as Peter’s skin starts to change. Large welts start to appear, like claw marks. They aren’t open but they are red and hot. They form mainly on his torso, with a few long ones across his thighs.

“Peter,” Isaac calls. “Peter, come back to me. I don’t know what’s happening but I need you to come back to me.” He reaches for Peter’s face and smooths some of the man’s hair out of his eyes. His thumb brushes over a welt forming on Peter’s cheek, and he startles at the heat coming from it.

Peter slowly reaches for Isaac’s wrist as if he’s feeling for something. Once his fingertips find Isaac’s pulse he sighs and slowly blinks. 

“What just happened?” he asks, filling the room with the scents of confusion and anxiety.

“I don’t know. You woke up suddenly, yelled out, and then fainted. Your body temperature rose really fast and Derek had to carry you in here to put you under the cold water. I couldn’t even move because I could feel the pain you were in. And now you have all these welts on your skin,” Isaac informs him.

“Help me up?” Peter asks as he holds out his arm. Isaac pulls him to his feet and helps him step out of the tub. He gently pats Peter’s skin dry, careful to barely touch the welts. As he’s drying his back, he watches as five long welts on both sides of his back, stretching from hip to shoulder form. They are more red and raised than the rest.

“Peter!” Isaac says, urgently. 

“I know. It’s gotta be Stiles.” Peter replies.

While Derek returns with Peter’s clothes, handing them to Isaac. He helps Peter change out of his wet underwear and into dry clothes. No one speaks as they work. Peter opts to leave the shirt off, the pain of the welts on his torso too much strong to have even the slightest pressure. The ones on his legs aren’t as severe. Isaac then loops Peter’s arm over his shoulder and helps him back to the couch. Peter grasps his chest like he’s pressing on an open wound. 

“We need to get everyone over here and we need to go through all the papers we brought,” Peter states as he waits for Isaac to set a cushion on the floor. Isaac can tell that he doesn’t want to lean against anything because of the pain. 

Isaac sits next to him and grabs for the sandwiches Peter had left for him the night before. “Do you want everyone over here?” he asks as he takes a bite of the food.

Peter nods at the pup.

While he eats, Isaac makes a new group text and messages everyone they consider part of the Pack, that’s in town. 

_● ● ● URGENT! ALL HANDS ON DECK! ● ● ●_

_Everyone needs to get here NOW. No exceptions! Peter was affected by something that hurt Stiles!_

Before he can set his phone down, texts start filtering in, confirming that they are on their way. 

Derek takes the rest of the cushions off the couches and sets them on the floor around his giant coffee table, and then goes to the dining room and gets all the research materials and sets them on the coffee table. Isaac grabs the folder he brought from the warehouse and starts separating the pages and organizing them into smaller piles of similar languages. 

Derek then goes to the kitchen and starts collecting snacks and he brews coffee for those who will need it. By the time he is done, the first of the Pack start to arrive. Peter looks up when he hears Lydia and Allison both gasp when they see the large puffy welts on Peter. They are much redder than when they first appeared. He just shakes his head ‘no’. Both women look like they want to cry. Instead they walk over to Peter and touch his unaltered cheek. He leans into their touches.

Getting everyone’s attention, Isaac hands out the piles of text, giving everything in French to Chris and Allison, everything in Archaic Latin to Lydia, everything in German to Peter, and he keeps pages in English for himself. Derek grabs the pages in Spanish from Isaac, and ushers Scott and Melissa to join him, so they can work together to translate.

As the rest arrive, they pair off with whoever has text they can help translate. Everyone works hard, rarely stopping except to eat, drink, and take bathroom breaks. The sun slowly makes its way across the sky, casting an orange glow along the walls in Derek’s loft. 

It isn’t until it has almost completely disappeared that Mason jumps up, nearly knocking over a drink, yelling, “I got it!”

Everyone stops moving as they wait for him to continue. 

“Okay, so we all know mistletoe and wolfsbane are toxic to the supernatural. Same with mountain ash… and the 9 herbs combined can heal. But if you know anything about them, you know that if you mix them incorrectly, they can kill. This says we need arrows or spears made from the wood of a rowan tree, and the arrows need to be dipped in a mixture of mistletoe, wolfsbane, and the 9 herbs. The herbs have to be mixed in the wrong order and in the wrong quantities. Shit. That means only the humans and the chimeras can do this, since we are the only ones who can touch all the stuff. Rowan is the most powerful of all the mountain ash species. Even the leaves and berries can be used in magical rituals.”

Chris is the first to speak up, saying, “Right, I have all the herbs at my house. Melissa and I know how to mix them. And arrows are Allison’s department so she can make those.”

“Okay, but does anyone know where we can get our hands on some rowan wood?” Isaac asks. 

“Actually, yes! We have a lot of that left over from when the boat house was built.” Lydia speaks up, a smile on her lips. 

“Chris and Melissa, you go make the herb mixture. Allison and Lydia, you go work on the arrows. Scott, go to Deaton’s and see if he can offer a way to find this thing. Tell him what Mason found about killing it. Maybe that will help him figure out a way to find it. The younger kids, go home to your families, we don’t need them panicking. If we need bodies to fight, I will text you. The rest of us will go get food and clean up around here. Once we have more answers, we can form a plan,” Derek instructs.

Everyone gets moving as soon as Derek is done talking.

* * *

 

“Use your magic, you stupid boy! Heal yourself! You would rather die than save yourself?” a gruff voice growls out next to Stiles’ ear.

All Stiles can do is whimper. The pain in his body is too great. 

“If you don’t stop the bleeding, I’m going to eat you right now!” the voice growls again. 

A small voice cries “I don’t know what you want! We can’t understand you!”

He hears a loud growl and then he feels pressure on his body and he cries out in pain again. 

“There’s too much blood! The sores are too big!” another frantic voice. 

He hears fabric ripping before he blacks out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, after pushing through an illness flair, I got a regular cold and it made the flair come back. I'm still a little sick but I'm doing much better. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	16. I Need To Go See a Tree About a Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter visits the Nemeton and comes away with something extra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Scott McCall, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Nemo (Nemeton)

Scott comes back to Derek’s with a grim expression. Derek just sighs.

Peter quickly walks from the bathroom, putting on the shirt he neglected earlier. “I knew that would be a waste of time. Thanks for going anyways, Scott” he says this as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. 

“Where are you going?” Derek asks him. 

“I need to go see a tree about a Spark. Alone. The rest of you finish going through the pages. Maybe we missed a clue. All the pages that aren’t in English have been translated.” He walks out the door before anyone can stop him. 

Peter leans against the wall inside the lift and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to collect his thoughts. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens the web browser. He searches for information on caring for older oak trees. He makes a list of supplies and puts an address into his phone. Once he gets in his car he sets the phone on the dash mount and starts the navigation. 

He gets to the store and grabs several gallons of water, then heads to the garden center for the other supplies that he needs. He’s in and out of the store in under twenty minutes. He gets to the Preserve in even less time. 

When Peter parks, he gets out and mixes the water and other supplies and carries them all through the Preserve. The Nemeton seems to appear out of nowhere and Peter nearly trip over it. 

“Oh _now_ you make yourself easy to find. Thanks for that.” Peter looks around at the clearing and realizes that in the center of the stump are several green shoots. He sniffs and he can smell the fading scent of Stiles panic. He growls a little. 

He sets about getting to work and carefully pours the fertilizer mixture around the base of the stump, as well as on the shoots. As he does this, the new growth bends to touch him, sending him feelings of gratitude. He raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. 

Finally done, he sits at the base and sighs. “We have what we need to find him, but I don’t even know where to look. I’m out of options now. I’m covered in unopened wounds that burn as if they’re bleeding and I know that means Stiles is badly hurt. I need to save him.” Peter’s voice shakes with emotion as he grasps the center of his chest in pain.

As soon as he leans his head back and closes his eyes, Peter feels like he’s tumbling down, weightless. When the sensation stops, he opens his eyes and Nemo is standing in front of him. 

“What do I do? I can’t lose him,” Peter declares, eyes filling with tears. 

Nemo smiles. “Before I help you, I wanted to thank you for the meal you brought. It will help. A little suggestion though, if the time comes that it is necessary to sacrifice a life, use my remnants as your alter. Their blood will replenish my strength and bolster your power."

Peter nods. 

“Now, as for your problem. I have gained enough strength that I can finally offer you some help. I couldn’t before. Branding a werewolf is no easy task and you will need all the help you can get. Don’t worry, it won’t leave a scar as it did with Stiles. Only the supernatural will be able to see the mark, and only when they use the magic in their eyes.” Nemo smiles at Peter. 

Peter squints at the tree-being and sighs. “I understand.”

Nemo moves forward and holds their hand over Peter’s forehead, between his eyes. “This will be unpleasant. The symbol I am giving you is shaped like a crescent moon, with the points facing up. There are three teardrop shapes evenly spaced under the moon. A little on the nose, but I think a rune tied to your nature will be the most useful. This will allow you to see magical auras, as well as any traces left behind. This symbol will also strengthen your own powers, and your immunity to wolfsbane.”

Peter goes to protest but Nemo softly laughs. “Oh Peter,” they say fondly. Nemo cups Peter’s cheek and smiles. 

Nemo moves their hand back to Peter’s forehead, touching him. The palm of Nemo’s hand glows and Peter tries to hold his breath against the pain. He grabs Nemo’s wrist and a roar explodes out of him as his wolf starts to take over as the pain becomes too much for him to handle. His eyes roll in the back until the whites are completely visible and his grip on Nemo falls as he loses consciousness. 

When the pain finally fades, Peter wakes with a gasp. He has to blink a few times because the world around him seems to glow. The Nemeton has a sort of gold glow around it, like gold flecks suspended in water. Leading from the stump is a really dark hazy trail of magic. It looks like ink and, when Peter holds his hand out to touch it, he feels like he’s dipped his hand in a jar of _wrong_ that sticks to him like oil. It overlaps with a trail of gold that gets fainter and fainter the further away from the Nemeton the murky trail gets.

He grabs his phone from his pocket and texts the group:

_I can find Stiles. Everyone needs to get their shit ready. We leave as soon as possible. Meet me at the Preserve. Follow my scent. Chris, give Noah a GPS tracker monitor. Keep a tracker on you. Noah, once we stop moving, head towards the closest access point to the Preserve to our location. I’ll text you once we are sure we are where we need to be. Melissa will come with us to help get the kids out._

One by one, replies filter in. He ignores their questions and leans back against the stump and waits.

_I’m coming, Stiles. Just hold on_ , he thinks to himself like a prayer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I know my excuses are getting old, but let me tell you... It wasn't health related this time. My sister got married, and the previous weeks were utter chaos. I'd have posted yesterday but my internet was affected by the storm because its satellite. I love you all, and thank you so much for your patience with me. I really really hope to get back on posting every week.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going.


	17. Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter organizes the search and rescue. He goes into shock after its all said and done. Noah is a good friend and Packmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Peter Hale, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Noah Stilinski, Derek Hale, Mason Hewitt, Yule Cat (Jólakötturinn), the children, Stiles Stilinski, an unnamed EMT  
>  **Pairings:** Peter & Noah  
>  **Warnings:** canon typical violence, blood, injury, going into shock

The sun has almost set by the time everyone shows up. Peter looks up, growling, as the sound of them brings him out of his thoughts. The air starts to fill with the potent floral scent of wolfsbane and mistletoe. Peter wrinkles his nose and exhales sharply. The other wolves make the same face but distance themselves from Allison, Lydia, Melissa, and Chris. 

“Is everyone ready?” Peter asks.

Allison hands out spears to those who can touch them and unrolls the arrows she’s made. She hands a similar roll to her father. They are smaller bolts instead of long arrows. The tips are coated in silver with the Argent symbol etched in. Peter gives her a look of approval. She pulls out her crossbow, loads a single bolt, and straps the smaller quivers to each leg. There are 100 bolts in total. They look unassuming, but Peter knows better. Smaller projectiles are less likely to pass all the way through and will stay lodged in their target.

“How are we going to find this thing?” Scott asks.

Peter smiles and pats the tree stump. He squints as he realizes it looks like it did before the new growth: dry and dead. He can feel the glamour on it, though. 

“I received a gift from a friend,” he says, and smirks as he feels his fingertips tingle when the tree returns the sentiment. “We’d better get going. These welts get any worse and they are going to burst open.” Peter clears his throat and follows the trail of magic he sees.

The rest of the group shrugs and follow behind him. 

The trek through the woods is fast paced, winding through dense trees and open spaces. Only Peter has been to this part of the Preserve. It is the furthest edge of Hale land. He guesses they’ve walked for about 25 miles. The group is quiet and contemplative and Peter can smell their feelings of dread and anticipation. He snorts and clears his nose and continues on.

At some point, the humans have to climb on the backs of the other non-humans, as they started to slow down. Not wanting to stop, Peter walks even faster, once he doesn’t have to hold back for anyone. Only a couple of hours pass before he stops walking, smelling the air. 

He whispers too low for humans to hear “I smell blood and magic. There’s a cave system in this area, but I haven’t been here in over 15 years. I didn’t know any of them were big enough for any creature to use.”

The rest nod and whisper to the humans, keeping their tones as low as possible.

Peter walks until he reaches a clearing. He crouches low to stay hidden in the bushes between the trees. He looks around and takes stock of everything he sees. Satisfied that he knows what to do, he walks back to the group and pulls his phone out. 

He sends a text to Noah:

_Noah, we are where we need to be. The closest access point to our location isn’t that far away._

Noah texts back:

_I was able to get an ambulance ready; we are on the way. We should be there soon._

Peter sends a text to the rest of the group: 

_There is a large cave up ahead. I heard a creek running over the top of the cave, so be careful where you step. The clearing around the cave is large enough for everyone who can fight, to move around._

_The Argents: on top of the cave._

_The non-humans: fan out along the edge of the treeline surrounding the cave. Lydia, stand with Derek._

_Mason, Melissa, and I will walk around the treeline to either side of the cave opening._

He hits send and waits. Everyone looks at their phones and nods in agreement. Peter motions to the treeline he just came from and Derek nods. Derek motions for the non-humans to spread out. Lydia follows behind Derek.

He motions for Melissa, Mason, Chris, and Allison to him and sends them texts: 

_The clearing around the cave will take you to the edge of the mouth. Chris, Mason, and Melissa, follow the tree line. Mason and Melissa, once you reach the edge of the mouth of the cave, stay put and stay hidden. Chris, once you get to where Mason and Melissa need to be, walk straight behind them, follow the curve of the cave until you reach the base of the slope and start climbing up. Allison, you’re with me. Your instructions are the same as Chris’. Be silent, and keep your weapons aimed once you reach the top._

He sends a text to the group again:

_I'll signal Derek once we're all in position. Derek will then signal Lydia to make her way to the center of the clearing. There will be plenty of leaves, so bury your spear in them at your feet, stand tall, then scream as loud as you can. Don’t move. Wait for the cat to come to you. Once it gets close to you, and only if you have a shot, try and hit it with the spear._

_When it's close to Lydia, I want all non-humans to attack. Keep it occupied while Mason, Melissa, and I sneak in and try to get everyone out. We’ll make our way out of the cave, out and around the back of it. Once we're far enough away, I’ll send a text to the Argents._

_Once they start firing their weapons, clear out of there so you don’t get hit. Those arrows will not give you any time to stop the spread of poison. You have seconds to live. Follow Derek’s lead. Good luck. Kill that thing and dismember it to be sure. I'll come back after I get Stiles to safety. Is everyone clear?_

He looks around at everyone and they nod in agreement. Peter and the humans make their way to their positions while Derek finishes directing everyone where they need to be. 

Peter and Allison move slowly through the trees, careful where they step. Once they reach the edge of the mouth of the cave, Allison breaks off, squeezing his arm as she does. Peter watches and waits for Mason and Melissa to get into place. Once they do, he flattens himself until he sees Allison leaning over the top of the cave and motions to get his attention. Chris salutes and loads his own crossbow with a bolt. Peter texts Derek to let him know that everyone is ready. He covers his ears and waits. 

Lydia’s scream is deafening. The sounds around the forest fall completely silent and Peter starts to sweat as the smell of blood gets thicker. 

A dark figure walks out of the cave, a deep growl rumbles at the back of it’s throat. Peter can feel the ground shake with the power of it. 

Once Lydia attacks, the wolves surge forward. The clearing fills with the sounds of snarling, growling, and fighting.

Peter slowly slips into the cave and Melissa and Mason join him. When they’re  just a few feet into the cave, it goes completely dark. Peter can still see, and that’s only because the magic in the cave is lighting it up like daylight. The smell of Stiles’ blood fills his nose. He hopes the wounds on his own body aren’t an indicator of what he’ll find when he reaches Stiles.

He gets close to Melissa and Mason and stops them from walking forward. He whispers to them “I'll send the kids to you.” He presses them to cave wall. “Stay put. You’ll be hidden in case it comes back. Stay silent, and don’t move until I get back.”

He makes his way to the back of the cave and can see the kids huddled close to a figure on the floor. They are crying and moving around, frantic. He gets closer and the smell of blood almost chokes him. He realizes that the kids erratic movements stem from their attempts to staunch the flow of blood from the figure at their feet. It suddenly hits him that the figure is Stiles.

A mournful sound catches in his throat. He falls to his knees at the sight before him. His heart aches seeing Stiles this way. He knew from his own mimicked injuries that Stiles would be in bad shape, but nothing prepared him for this. Stiles is bleeding profusely and scraps of fabric have been tied around the various wounds on his arms, legs, and chest. The blanket under him is slowly soaking up more and more blood. Peter looks around and finds a clean blanket and scoops him up, wrapping the blanket tightly around his body and cradling him. He can hear the boy’s heartbeat and takes solace in the sound, however faint it may be. 

While he’s working, he can hear the sounds of fighting outside. He tries not to focus on it, knowing that if he gets distracted, it could cause Stiles his life. He has to be very careful, so he doesn’t make any of the injuries worse. 

He looks over all the children who don’t even seem to know Peter’s there, their faces blank. Peter has no doubt that they have endured countless traumas while here. 

He speaks softly to them. “Children. My name is Peter. I’m here to save you. I have friends in here with me who will help. There are more outside, fighting the creature while we get out of here. Gather your things and let's get going.”

As if on autopilot, and without a sound, the children gather around him and hold on to him as he walks back towards Melissa and Mason, Stiles in his arms. Once he reaches them he whispers to them that he’s got the children. He’s thankful that the cave is too dark for them to see Stiles. He already knows that they feel a sense of urgency because of how Peter looks. 

Melissa and Mason holds the hands of the kids as Peter leads them to the mouth of the cave. He looks around and when it’s clear, he ushers Melissa and two of the kids out first. Pausing and looking again, he sends Mason out with the other two. Once they are out and behind the cave, he carefully walks out and moves as quickly as he can. 

They only pause so that Melissa can carry the youngest of them on her back so they move a little quicker. Peter only slows down and waits for Melissa and Mason to catch up once the sounds of fighting have faded into the distance. 

“I need someone to pull my phone out of my front pocket and hold the home button down so I can talk to Siri,” he announces. 

Melissa nods and fishes it out of his front pocket. She presses the home button down and holds the phone up so Peter can talk into it.

“Send a text message to Chris Argent.”

 _“What do you want to say?”_ Siri asks.

“Fire at will.”

“ _Your message to Chris Argent says ‘Fire at will.’ Are you ready to send?”_

“Yes.”

 _“Okay it has been sent.”_ Peter nods and Melissa puts his phone back. Peter begins to walk as fast as he can, without jostling Stiles as much as possible. He can hear the boy’s heartbeat stutter and slow. 

In what felt like an hour to Peter, they find Noah standing in front of the open doors to an ambulance. Peter lays Stiles on the gurney and the EMTs get to work.

One of them asks Noah, “Sir, he’s lost a lot of blood. We don’t keep blood on hand. Is anyone here his type?”

“Yeah, I am,” his father responds. Noah climbs in and rolls up his sleeve.

Melissa and Mason catch up and she takes a look at the kids once she catches her breath. “Is everyone okay? Is anyone hurt?” All of the kids shake their heads ‘no’. 

“Noah, please tell me you lead them here and didn’t ride with them?” she asks.

“Yeap, let me finish up here and we’ll get going. They’re just about ready to leave as well. He’s in really bad shape.”

Melissa leads them to Noah’s cruiser and ushers everyone inside. “Peter, go back to the Pack. Help them. I’ve got it from here. Stiles will be fine, I promise. I will call you if something happens.” 

Peter doesn’t look convinced but he takes a deep breath and nods once. At top speed he runs back the way he came. He reaches the fight in less than five minutes, and comes to a halt as soon as he sees the creature. All of the wolves and chimeras have it pinned and Allison and Chris are shooting it full of bolts, weakening it. Peter looks around and sees a spear lying on the ground. He rips his shirt off, wraps it around his hand, picks the spear up and charges at the cat. He can feel his skin burning slightly, being so close to the mountain ash wood. He doesn’t care.

He howls as loud as he can, shifting into his Beta form, as he drives the spear into the cat’s chest, bisecting its heart. The cat screams and stops moving, falling on top of three of the wolves. Peter can feel the heart trying to beat as he pulls out the spear and then breaks off the handle and thrusts it into one of the cat’s eyes. He then uses the long pointed silver tip like a knife, jumping on the creatures back, grabbing the hair on top of its head, pulling it back and exposing the throat. Peter howls again as he slices the head of the creature off in one swing of the blade. The force of it coating him and the trees around them in blood. 

He throws the blade and the head to the ground and jumps from the creature’s back. His face is blank as he pulls the three trapped kids out from under the creature. Everyone moves away as the ground begins to tremble, and the body and head of the beast liquefy and turn to a disgusting puddle on the ground. It smells of sulfur and rot. 

As the smell hits him, something in him shifts. He doesn’t say a word to anyone and just turns around and runs back to where the ambulance had been sitting only moments before. He scents the air and focuses on the scent of Stiles, and follows as fast as he can. He catches up to it and leaps on top and hangs on, riding it all the way to the hospital. He jumps down as soon as Stiles’ gurney out of the vehicle, startling the EMT. He doesn’t say a word as he follows the gurney into the hospital and he doesn’t fight anyone as Stiles is wheeled away to emergency surgery. 

Melissa arrives right behind them and ushers the kids into a secluded room, at the end of the hall. Noah follows and pulls Peter into the room as well. He gently pushes the wolf into the bathroom and shuts the door. Noah waits with the children while Melissa leaves the room and gets Peter some clean scrubs to wear. When she opens the bathroom door, he’s just standing there, blankly staring at his reflection in the mirror. “Noah, can you get in here, please?”

When Noah enters the room, Peter doesn’t even flinch. “Noah, Peter’s in shock. I need you to bathe him and get him into clean clothes. We’re in room 225. It’s always empty, so no one is going to come in and bother you. I keep it that way in case we have situations like this. The hospital knows not to use it. I’ve got to go take the kids to a different room and get other staff to take a look at them and start the process for contacting their parents. I’ll come and get you once it’s time for you to talk to the families.” 

Noah nods and she exits the bathroom. Noah shuts the door behind her. 

“Peter?” he asks gently. “Peter, is me, Noah. Can you hear me, son?”

Peter’s eyes slightly shift to focus on Noah, through the mirror. His head shifts slightly in acknowledgement. 

“Alright. I’ve gotta get you out of these clothes and get you under the shower spray. I’m going to go turn the water on.” he tells the wolf in front of him. 

He moves slowly so he doesn’t startle the wolf and turns on the water and adjusts the knobs so it gets up to temperature. He comes back and stands a little to the side to get Peter’s attention again.

“Peter? I’m going to undress you now, okay? Underwear and all. You’re covered in blood and who knows what else. I promise I’m not going to hurt you or do anything bad. Then I’m going to lead you over to the shower and scrub you clean and get you into some clean clothes.”

Peter barely nods his assent, but Noah waits for it before he moves again. He gently pulls the shirt from around Peter’s hand, careful of his extended claws, and then stoops to unzip Peter’s blood soaked pants and pulls them down. He carefully pulls each of Peter’s legs out. He does the same with Peter’s underwear. As he silently works, Peter puts a hand on his shoulder. Noah looks up at the man and Peter isn’t looking at him. He’s still staring at his own reflection in the mirror. Once Noah has Peter out of all of his clothes, having been very careful not to touch or look at him any more than he has to, he gently tugs Peter towards the shower. 

“Peter, before I put you under the water I’m letting you know, again, that I’m going to have to wash you. I will let the water do most of the work first, so I don’t have to touch you any more than either of us wants to, okay?” 

Again, Peter nods his assent, and lets Noah put him under the spray of the water. Thankfully the shower head is one with a long hose so Noah can spray Peter all over without having to move him as much. The hot water seems to rinse off most of the filth. Some refuses to slough off, and Noah grabs a bar of soap and washcloth from a small stool at the other end of the shower. He scrubs the stubborn patches and rinses Peter down. There’s some bits of something unidentifiable stuck in Peter’s hair so Noah puts the shower head back where it goes and washes Peter’s hair. Which is no easy feat since Peter is almost the same height as Noah. Once he’s done, he grabs the shower head and carefully rinses Peter’s hair. 

Peter is finally all clean and Noah turns the water off. He grabs a towel and dries the man off. He walks him away from the wet floor and then quickly redresses Peter in the scrubs. 

“Peter, I need you to come with me now. I’m going to take you back into the room we were just in. We are in a more secluded room so you can come back to yourself without hurting someone accidentally.”

Peter lets himself be lead through the door and lets Noah push him to sit on the bed.

“Peter, look at me. You don’t have to lay down, but I need you to come back to me. He’ll be in surgery for a while, but he’ll live. I promise. I was on the radio with the EMT the entire trip. Stiles is gonna be fine.”

At the mention of Stiles’ name, Peter whines and reaches for Noah and pulls him to his chest and squeezes his arms around Noah. Noah tries not to cry out in surprise and lets the man hug him. Peter nuzzles Noah’s chest and breathes deeply. He does this a couple more times before he seems to come back to himself. He slowly lets his arms drop and Noah knows to step back, but not too far. He can almost feel Peter’s distress through the Packbond, but it feels muted and a little blurry. Like he’s trying to hear a conversation through a wall, or from under water. He suspects that if he were a werewolf, the weight of it would be physically painful.

“I can hear his heart beating. Its steady and strong but they are saying he’s going to have to be put into a medically induced coma because of the injuries to his back. Some go all the way to the bone, on his shoulder blades and they are going to have to create skin and muscle grafts to give him back any range of motion. He’s lucky if he’ll be able to walk because of the damage to the nerves to his hips.” Peter chokes on a sob at the last of his words.

“Okay. It's okay, Peter. You brought him back to me, and that’s what matters. He’s alive. We’ll deal with the rest of it as it comes. Maybe his magic will give us a miracle. We know he’s resilient and powerful. We just have to hold on to hope, okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one comforting you?” Peter asks.

Noah smiles warmly at Peter. “I know my boy. If he came in here with a beating heart, he will fight until he literally can’t. You said his heartbeat is strong. Then I know that everything will work out in the end.”

Peter’s eyes are swimming with unshed tears as he nods. He isn’t sure he fully believes it, but he holds on to hope that the sheriff is right. He isn’t ready to lose yet another Pack member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	18. Sleeping Disembodiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is in a coma. This chapter is of his experience during that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Noah Stilinski; _mentioned: _Melissa McCall__  
>  **Pairings:** Peter & Stiles, Noah & Stiles  
>  **Warnings:** coma, mention of seizures, mention of injures, loss of autonomy,  
>  **A/N:** This chapter was really interesting to write. Keep in mind I am not a doctor so my knowledge is limited. I have heard that folks in a medically induced coma remember less or none of their experience, compared to those in one due strictly because of injury or health condition. But Stiles is magical even if he can’t seem to access it right now. Researching for this chapter was actually fun. :)

Stiles has vague memories of what happened to him in the cave. It’s mostly blurry and faded, like he’s watching the memories of someone else. He can feel the pain in his body, but little else. He knows he’s in the hospital, but he can’t move or open his eyes. He tastes and smells chemicals. The smell and taste is mostly at a steady pace but gets stronger at an almost countable interval.

One by one, the Pack visits him, and one by one they appear to him in his dreams. Giving him words of hope, faith, and encouragement. They fade quickly and come and go in small bursts. He has no idea how long he’s been asleep, dreaming of the Pack he loves. His dad and Peter visit the most often. Sometimes when nurses visit him, they will appear in his dreams like puffs of smoke. 

He can hear voices sometimes, when he isn’t dreaming. His brain is muddled, and he can’t move, but the feeling in his chest tells him that it’s okay and not something to panic over. 

The very first time he panicked over it, he heard alarms blaring, his body moving without his permission, and searing pain crawling and clawing through his skin. He wondered if this is how Erica felt when she had seizures. He’d been thankful he was in a coma. He thought it might have been worse if he hadn’t. He’d been brought out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his shoulder and shouting over his head. After that, his body stilled, the alarms quieted, and the pain dulled. It wasn’t long after that the weight in his chest became more apparent. It told him that he was safe. That he had no need to panic. He listened and let sleep take him for a long time.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sleeping, but his joints ache and his skin itches. The voices coming and going dwindle around him and he can only pick out three constants; His dad, Peter, and Melissa. He knows the rest of the Pack still visits him, but they don’t speak and they don’t stay long. His skin seems to itch the most when they’re near, and especially when they touch him. Somehow, he knows his skin is healing. 

He wants to access his magic, but the door is locked up tight. Blocked by the muddiness of his brain. He wants to pick the lock but, in this blurry world of his, nothing is coordinating and working right. He knows how to open the door, but when he goes to turn the knob, it’s either missing, or incomplete, so he can’t grab hold of it. He knows if he could just open the door, he could heal himself and wake up. Stubbornly, his brain doesn’t want any moments of clarity, because when that happens, the pain comes. When the pain comes, the door seems to disappear, and his brain gets even foggier than it usually is.

Sometimes he isn’t sleeping, or awake, or anything. It's like he’s there, but not. Floating in nothing, and simply existing. When this happens, it’s followed by feeling really cold, feeling really hot, a lot of pain in various areas, some more concentrated than others, and a lot of people crowd around him for long periods of time. Stiles guesses that he’s being worked on by the hospital staff, but he doesn’t know what they are doing.

At some point, the itching gets so bad his fingers and toes start to twitch on their own. He wants very badly to scratch his nose but he can’t. His back aches in ways he never thought possible, and he wishes he could count his fingers, just for the sake of being able to do something different.

His face has been really itchy. Sometimes people touch it and it feels wet and he smells something strong and masculine under his nose. The smell goes away, followed by more wetness and cold. Then that goes away and the whole process happens all over again. Stiles finally guesses that someone is shaving his face but isn’t sure why since he hasn’t even started growing the pitiful wispy hairs that most teenage boys get at his age. He wonders if he will ever wake up to find the answers.

At one point while sleeping, he feels floaty and nowhere, and then there is quite a lot of pain causing his heart rate to rise. It slowly fades as a chemical smell and taste flood his mouth and nose. He realizes he’s laying on his stomach. He lays like this for a very long time. He doesn’t like this position. It makes his hips ache and his neck feel stiff. But he can’t tell anyone any of this and has to wait until someone moves him. He hopes they flip him over again soon.

His back begins to itch worse than it ever has before. Sometimes it itches so bad it hurts. Hurts like burning. Its distracting and even when he smells and tastes chemicals, it doesn’t go away. He wants to scream because he can’t tell anyone, and he can’t stop it. 

Sometimes when the pain is at its worst, when the chemical smell and taste doesn’t chase it away, and he itches so bad it wants to cry, he feels a weight next to him in the bed. It's warm and comforting. Sometimes parts of the weight touch his bare skin and he can feel his pain drain away. If he could purr, he would. Something in Stiles tells him that the weight in the bed is one of the wolves. Mostly Peter. Sometimes it's the others. But when it's this bad, he can’t tell them apart. The only reason he can guess Peter from all the rest of them is because Peter sometimes will say his birth name, whispering “Mieczysław,” and soothing words, while petting his hair and nuzzling his neck. Stiles wishes he could nuzzle back. He tries to send happy feelings through his Packbond, but isn’t sure anything is getting through. 

At some point, he tastes something awful and smells it just the same and cringes. It tastes like chemicals, but worse than when they chase the pain away. It doesn’t chase the pain away. It makes him more aware of it. Slowly these things are followed by an incessant beeping that refuses to stop. His head aches like he’s got a hangover. He just wants the beeping to stop. His throat is dry and he wants to scratch every inch of himself. 

Instead, he groans and starts to feel himself come back to his body. He hasn’t felt fully connected to it since he woke up from the dream where Peter… no not Peter. The _Cat_ shredded his body and said nasty things wearing Peter’s face. He spends what feels like an entire lifetime trying to get his eyes to open. The damn beeping won’t stop and he doesn’t know what it is. His body keeps trying to fight him, but the fog in his brain slowly lifts, and he begins to gain some control little by little. 

His fingers and toes start to twitch and he wants to yell in triumph as he stretches them, trying to ease the ache out of them. Slowly but surely the rest of his body starts to catch up. When he finally opens his eyes, the world floods in and he groans again. The lights are too bright and it makes them water. Exhaustion takes over and he falls asleep. He’s glad he doesn’t smell or taste chemicals when he does. 

When he wakes again, the lights are much dimmer and his eyes flutter open and shut again, trying to adjust to the change from dark to light. He takes a deep breath and looks around him. He can’t lift his head but he can move it from side to side. 

Someone’s in the chair to his left but his vision is still blurry, having not been used for so long. He blinks again, trying to clear his vision a little. The person is sitting in the dark and he still can’t figure out who it is. He tries to call out to them but his voice isn’t working. They are up and rush to him, shushing him and caressing his face. He smells something like the Preserve after it rains, radiating warmth and safety. 

“Peter,” he tries to groan out, but his words are still garbled. 

“Shh, sweetheart. I need to call a nurse.”

“No,” is all Stiles says, reaching for Peter, his heart rate making the beeping of the machines speed up.

“Alright, shh. It's okay, I’m not going anywhere. I can call her from here. Don’t worry.”

With Peter’s words, Stiles’ heart slows back down to its normal pace. 

His eyes flutter closed as exhaustion takes over again. 

“Rest, sweetheart. Don’t worry I won’t leave.”

The world is dark and quiet after that. Stiles thinks he hears people coming and going from his room but he isn’t sure. He’s so damn tired. His body is exhausted from trying to wake up, so he lets sleep take him.

When he wakes again, it’s a little less difficult. The room smells like antiseptic and something familiar. As he opens his eyes, he makes a sound of protest because the lights are too bright again. He squeezes his eyes closed again.

“Bright” he says. His voice hurting with the effort.

The room goes dark and he opens his eyes again. 

“Dad” he says. 

“He kiddo. You gave us a scare for a while, there.”

“Where?” he asks.

“Peter went to get me a coffee. I’m sure he can hear you and is on his way back now.” 

“How long?”

Stiles braces for the answer, when his dad’s face falls. 

Noah sighs heavily before he answers. “You’ve been in a coma for almost three months. They had to medically induce you so you wouldn’t move while you healed.”

Stiles processes the information. Its March. He sighs. 

“Kids?”

“They’re safe. They weren’t injured. A little malnourished, and needing some therapy… But they're fine.”

Peter walks through the door and hands a cup to the sheriff. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m so glad you came back to us,” he says. 

“Peter. You? Scratches?” Stiles says, as he notices the welt on Peter’s face and arms. 

“Don’t you worry about that. I’m okay, I promise. You rest now.”

“Okay,” he says before he closes his eyes again. “Stay?” he asks. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I wouldn’t dare leave. Do you want me to lay with you?”

“Mmm,” Stiles hums his acknowledgment.

He vaguely feels the bed dip next to him as he falls under, feeling safe and secure as his mind goes dark again. 

The next several weeks are blurry and muddled as Stiles becomes more and more accustomed to being able to wake up and move his limbs a little. He’s instructed to take it slow and he does. His whole body aches and his skin is stiff and painful. Several times a day someone comes in, slathers something on his skin, and then leaves again. 

More strangers have seen him naked than he’s ever wanted, and he feels his autonomy slipping when a new nurse comes in and just manhandles him without speaking to him. 

“I need to get out of here,” he tells his dad. “Why haven’t I been allowed to go home yet?”

“They want to make sure your wounds are healed enough to allow you to move out of bed. It was touch and go there for a bit because your wounds were so bad. They weren’t sure you were going to be able to lift your arms or move your legs, Stiles. They had to do a lot of tissue grafting. I know you want to go home, but give it a little more time.”

“Okay,” is his only response. 

By the time he is allowed to go home, it’s close to his birthday. The only reason they let him is because he threatened to crawl out if they didn’t. They wheel him out to his dad’s car, handing him a large stack of instructions. 

When he gets home, he climbs into bed. He closes his eyes as soon as his head hits the pillow, reveling in the fact that he can lay on his side now. He draws comfort from the familiar smells and sensations. Peter and Isaac are in his doorway and he looks up, being able to feel them nearby. 

“Come on, get in here,” he tells them. 

Isaac makes a happy noise as he rushes to the bed and crawls in, careful not to jostle Stiles too much. Peter lays on his other side. Stiles starts to fall asleep, enveloped in the scent of Pack. He feels arms wrap around him and the two wolves in his bed scoot closer to him. He knows he won’t need a blanket with the heat they are giving off. Their warmth dulls the ache in his body, and he sighs in relief, a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To My Dearest Supporters,
> 
> I am so behind.... this is why.
> 
> As many of you may know, I am chronically ill. I have several illnesses that affect me every single day of my life. Some days I only have enough energy to get up and go to the bathroom. The month of October was an incredibly busy one. On top of that, in between all the thing I had to do, my illness kept flaring. That means that symptoms are worse than usual.   
> And now that we are in November, the flaring hasn't stopped. 
> 
> Because of this, I am really behind in my writing. I have the story outlined, its just getting the chapters written. Its going slower than usual, because I can't type while I'm laying down, because of my back. It takes a lot of energy to sit up and type. It takes a lot of mental work to let the words flow. Writing is hard work. It takes its toll on my body. I love doing it, which is why I still do. But please bare in mind that I am sick. I will always be sick, so sometimes chapter releases won't be consistent. Evident by my bi-weekly posting in October. 
> 
> So for now, posting chapters is on hold. The story isn't technically on hiatus, because I am continuing to write, you all just won't see chapters for a while. I promise I will start posting again, as soon as I get a little ahead with my chapters. Right now I only have part of Chapter Nineteen written. I don't have a time frame for it, so I'm going to take a bit of a vacation and write and post when I can. 
> 
> Thank you for your continued support. It really means the world to me. I promise I am NOT abandoning this story. I refuse to do that to you all. I want to tell it. I love this story and I am looking forward to sharing the rest of it with you. 
> 
> ❤❤❤,  
> AJ
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	19. Visions of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a past life flashback. New names, and new characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Michael Silas Gajos, Sara Delgado, Henry Jones (OMC), (no first name mentioned) Argent (OMC), Peirson Hale,  
>  **Warnings:** hint at racist slur (the word isn’t actually used but implied), unsavory language, background characterS death, gun, gunshot, magical healing

His eyes begin to refocus as he blinks a couple of times to clear the fog. He looks down at the book in his lap and picks up his pen. He clears his mind again to finish his thought. His eyes flash gold as ink flows from the tip of the pen and writes. 

> _“I know things are really difficult and scary right now. I promise they will get better. I know everyone says that, but I promise I mean it. Do me a favor, please don’t lose heart about the things to come. They will all sort themselves out in the end, even if they feel hopeless now.”_

He looks up from the book and waits for the ink to dry. He breathes a deep sigh, taking in the scents around him. The forest, the ancient trees he’s sitting under, and the clean smell of the breeze ghosting over his skin.

He hears footsteps to his right and turns to look. Coming towards him, with an annoyed expression, is his best friend, Sara. 

“Michael Silas Gajos! I have been looking all over for you! We have patients to tend to. Get your butt up and get back to the house!”

He closes his book and tucks his pen away in his pocket. “Sorry, Sara. Your mom isn’t too mad, is she?” he asks, looking down at the ground and trying, but failing to appear apologetic as he looks up at her through his long lashes. 

“Don’t give me those eyes, they don’t work on me. Mom threatened to give away the cake she made us if I didn’t get you back before lunch.”

He laughs and uses the tree behind him to help him stand. He stretches his body and winces as his joints pop. He looks up at the tree. It sends happy feelings through the palm of his hand. He taps it affectionately with his fingertips and walks to catch up with his friend. He gets lost in thought, thinking about the boy who runs with wolves that he’s recently seen in his dreams.

* * *

Silas sinks further down into the couch he’s lounging on, humming with satisfaction as the plush cushions seem to drain the aches in his bones away. It’s been a long and exhausting week. 

“Sometimes I wish Mom would come out of retirement,” Silas muses.

Sara joins him in front of the fire and hands him a warm bowl of soup. She only hums in acknowledgement.

“This week was harder than it needed to be with all the new faces. I know they were mostly human, but still...  I miss working with her.” 

“Both of your parents are enjoying a quiet normal life, miles away from here. Well deserved after all the hardships they had to endure to get here,” she reminds him. 

“I know. I wouldn’t take them from that, but I still miss them.”

“I know you do.” She pauses before asking, “What does Henry think about all the new people coming through? Does he think we need to strengthen the wards?”

“No, he said that some important people came through to map the area, and its important we don’t completely hide away. I originally thought it would be a good idea to keep this place a secret from all humans, but then I remembered that some can have magical children, and it wouldn’t be fair to separate them. I don’t know what I would have done if I wasn’t able to see my dad again.”

“That’s true. What about those who have human babies. I heard about a were-family who had a set of twins. Their first full moon, one of them wolfed out and the other didn’t. My ma said that the one that wolfed out cried and cried because it was so startling.” Her lip curls a little in amusement.

“Can you imagine if their mother _wasn’t_ a werewolf and that happened? It’s a good thing they had the support of a Pack.”

She hums in agreement.

Silas gets lost in thought for a moment. “I had an odd dream the other night. A stranger coming to town, changing everything. No telling when it’ll happen though. I wrote it down in my journal. I don’t know if the change will be a good one or not.” He sighs, looking down at his bowl. 

They sit in companionable silence for a while, watching the fire die down. Just as Silas starts to doze, Sara nudges him and sends him home to his own bed. She busies herself raking the coals together in a pile and adding a large log over top to keep them from going completely out.

When Silas gets home, he goes through his bedtime routine. Just before he falls asleep, he reaches his magic out and pokes at all the wards he has placed around the town. He starts with the Delgado house. He can feel Sara going through her own night time routine. One by one he reinforces each house. He smiles when the wards around the largest house in the town flare back at him as intact and untripped. He hadn’t been sure they’d stick, since the person living there is a werewolf who crosses the boundaries a lot. But Peirson has learned to trigger them in a way that lets Silas know its him doing it. 

Satisfied that they are all holding, he lets himself drift off to sleep. 

Several times he wakes with a start from nightmares he can’t remember, breathing heavy, heart racing. Each time he calms himself, gets a drink of water, and goes back to sleep. When dawn comes, and he wakes for a final time, he gives up on trying to sleep. He knows that today will not be an easy day.

* * *

Silas is going through his morning routine when he hears a very loud commotion outside. Wiping his hands off on his apron, he follows the sounds of  his curious neighbors.  As he’s making his way through the crowd to the center of the town, he sees a man on a horse with a harsh expression. Moving closer, he sees Henry at the edge of the opening in the sea of people. When the stranger speaks, he addresses Henry. The only thing Silas can hear is the unsavory words the stranger uses to get Henry’s attention. It makes everyone in town cringe and glare at the stranger. Silas sees red.

“Hey!” he shouts. The crowd parts as he storms forward. “You can’t just call a black man anything you please! We don’t use that type of language in this town! This man has a title and a name; Mayor and Henry Jones. You would do well to remember that while you are here, or you can leave.” Silas’s anger flares and he knows he can feel his eyes tint gold.

The man sneers and spits on the ground at Henry’s feet. He turns tail and rides out of the town. Silas catches a glint on the saddle as he does and that’s when he knows this is just like his dream. The symbol on the metal is a _fleur-de-lis_ and his blood runs cold. 

“Henry, you need to round up every supernatural creature in town and move them to the caves in the forest. That man is a Hunter with a capital H and he’s going to come back to town with more people.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He’s an Argent.”

Henry squints. Not at Silas, but at the idea of an Argent attacking the town. Henry knows there isn’t time to go door to door, so he does the only thing that will save time. He roars. He roars so loud it rattles the windows of every house nearby. 

In 5 minutes flat, all the supernatural citizens are bustling to the center of the town. 

“Alright. We don’t have time to dawdle. They would have heard me and will want to make whatever their next move is ahead of time. Everyone who isn’t human, along with any magic users who are, please make your way to the cave system in the forest. Take food and anything you will need for your babies. Leave everything else behind. Things can be replaced. People cannot. Go. Now!” Henry’s eyes bleed bronze and he claps his hands dismissing everyone. 

“What do you need me to do, Henry?” Silas asks.

“I need you to help the sick, elderly, and the orphans get to where they are going. Thankfully we don’t have any non-human children here.” He sighs and shakes his head. He’s been alive for a very long time, and hasn’t had to kill anyone. Not even in self defense. He doesn’t want to start tonight, but he knows he will if it comes down to it. He just hopes he can save the town in time. 

Silas pats his shoulder and gets moving. When he reaches the small orphanage, he helps the adults move all the children out. As families pass by the building, they hand off children to them, along with a bag of food. Thankfully there aren’t that many. The only reason there are any at all is because not everyone survives childbirth. 

Once the building is empty, he moves on the Delgado residence. It is a home, but also a hospital. They treat all manner of beings there. Supernatural, humans, and animals.  Since everyone else is leaving on foot, there are plenty of carts and horses to get the animals and people out. One by one, they carry everyone out and load them up. As the last of the town filters through the trees, the carts are the last to leave. All that’s left are adult, able bodied humans, Henry, and Silas. 

Silas looks around, at the humans that are left  gather in the center of town. He hopes that the Hunters who return won’t punish them for living in a town of supernatural creatures. He sighs heavily. “Everyone who doesn’t want to fight, please head to the meeting hall. I’ll hide the building.” he thanks every divine power that’s listening that they had the presence of mind to put the building out of the way, so that if it suddenly went missing, people wouldn’t notice the vacant spot where its suppose to go.

Almost all of the humans rush to the building. As he hears the locks catch, he presses his palm to the door and the runes on the building glow. When he pulls his hand away, the building disappears. He can see a foggy version of it, but that’s only because he’s the one that hid it. Anyone else who looks in this direction will just look right past it.

He joins Henry back in the center of town and waits. As dusk begins to settle, they both spot a dust cloud getting closer to the entrance to the town. “This is it!” Henry announces. The men who opted to stay with them steady their weapons and lean forward in a ready stance.

Just  as a large group of people on horseback become visible at the town boundaries, a loud explosion shakes the ground beneath their feet. The buildings closest to the group catches fire. Silas pulls his magic forward. 

The Hunter from earlier rides into the town at full speed, stopping short in front of  the group of people who stayed behind to defend the town. Henry snarls at the man, only dropping his teeth.

The Hunter in front of them sneers at the group of men in front of him. “I knew this was town was full of dogs and dog fuckers.” He looks over his shoulder and yells, “Look alive, boys. This town is ours. We only have a few mongrels to deal with!”

Silas’s lip curls in anger and the gold in his eyes pulses and swirls. “You’re gonna wish you never set foot in my town, Hunter scum.”

“I didn’t know dogs could own land,” the man replies with a smirk, pleased with himself.

“Oh I’m a whole different kind of animal.” Silas says this and his eyes fill completely with gold, taking over the pupils, and glowing brightly. 

He raises his hand above his head and starts to mutter under his breath. Before he can finish his incantation, a shot rings out and Silas yells out, grabbing his shoulder. 

Henry roars and beta shifts. The effect is alarming, to say the least. He doesn't look like a typical werewolf beta. He’s grown about two feet and his mouth is much bigger. His hair is thicker and some of his clothes have shredded and fallen to the ground. Silas puts his hand out and shakes his head ‘no’. Henry doesn’t shift back, but he does wait to see what Silas wants to do next. 

Silas closes his eyes and his palm glows. He pulls his hand away and throws fragmented metal on the ground at his feet.

There is a moment of silence, where no one moves. The air is still and even the wildlife is quiet. Everyone’s bodies grow tense, waiting for someone to make another move. Out of nowhere, a black blur surges forward and knocks one of the men off their horse. When it lands, everyone sees a wolf. The man is below him, dead.

Before the Hunters can make a move, the sound of several shots echo through the surrounding buildings. Everyone looks around to see where they came from. The smell of confusion in the air is thick and sour. Just as everyone starts to murmur, five of the men on horseback fall off their saddles. Several more shots are fired. and six more drop. The remaining men don’t even flinch.

The leader, with the Argent family crest on his saddle, laughs as several explosions go off, and many of the houses catch fire. The homes are close together, and all are on fire within minutes.

“Losing men never mattered much to me so long as the mission is complete, the end is justified. Besides, I never wanted this town, I just wanted it gone. Now you will lose everything.” He laughs. 

“You will never destroy us!” Silas yells, with conviction.

“You might as well surrender. Whoever shot my men is out of ammo by now, which is why they haven’t taken us all out.”

Silas smirks. “Or, and hear me out, they were hoping  you’d get the message and leave.”

“I doubt that.” The man adjusts himself on his saddle.

Several more shots are fired, and the rest of the hunting party fall off their horses. 

The Argent man cocks his gun in a fast blur and rapid fires. Before the bullets can hit Silas, the black wolf from earlier jumps in front of him.

Silas hears himself screaming “Noooooooo!”. But things are a bit fuzzy after that. In reflex, he throws his hands up, and a bright light shoots out from his direction, hitting the Hunter, knocking the gun from his hand. The man screams as his hands are mangled. 

Silas is brought out of his daze by the fact that the black wolf is now slowly turning into a very naked, very injured man. “Peirson!” He yells and rushes to the werewolf’s side and lifts his head. 

Peirson whimpers, as his body is moved.

Henry sees movement from the mangled Hunter on his horse and fully shifts into a bear. He runs full force at the Argent man. Seeing his defeat, the Hunter turns his horse around and yells for the remainder of his party to retreat. 

Silas yells after the man, “If you or your kind ever set foot in my town again, you will die! That is a promise!”

Peirson lets out a gurgled cough, getting Silas’s attention. “Henry! He’s not healing!” 

The bear runs back towards Silas, shifting back to a man as he goes. Silas winces at the sound of shifting bones. 

“Smells like wolfsbane; we’ll have to burn it out of him.”

Silas nods, pulls his magic forward and places his hand on one of the wounds. His hand glows with a violent white light, and Peirson yells as the smell of burning flesh and ashen flowers fills the air. “I’m so sorry. I have to do this five more times.”

The werewolf braces himself for what’s coming. When Silas touches his skin again, he tries to hold in his screams, but the pain becomes too great as his flesh is burned again and again. The acrid smell grows thick. Peirson finally passes out, when Silas gets to the third wound.

By the time they finished, Silas’ breathing is labored and sweat drips down his brow. He tries to stand but loses his balance. Henry catches him. The last thing he hears before his vision goes black is Henry talking in his ear. “Stay with me kid. Hold on. Oh hell!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life’s blood that keeps me going!
> 
> Also! I will having more flashbacks so this won’t be a one of! We will continue to explore the whole soulmates thing as the story continues ❤️


	20. Warm Embraces and a Birthday (Here and Now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles wake from the dream, the next morning. Noah, Isaac, and Peter are there for a birthday breakfast. Stiles gets a couple of unexpected, but not unwelcome, presents from unexpected sources.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Noah Stilinski; _mentioned:_ Claudia Stilinski, Michael Silas Gajos (OMC), Derek Hale  
>  **Warnings:** casual affection, Packdad!Noah, mention of bathroom use (non graphic), detached manhandling, protective Peter, Stilinski family feels, Packbonding
> 
> * * *
> 
> Link to Pinterest Board for the fic: [HERE](https://www.pinterest.com/carryonmyswansong/two-men-and-a-tree-pics-and-links/).

Stiles gasps as he startles awake. He quickly counts his fingers, breathing a sigh of relief when he counts ten. He buries his face in his hands as he tries to calm his heart rate.

“Stiles,” he hears whispered next to him.

“I’m okay. That was one hell of a dream though,” he replies. 

Peter places his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles puts his own hand over Peter’s, squeezing it, reassuring himself that he’s awake. 

“I had a pretty vivid dream, myself. I woke up when I felt my skin burning.” He pulls up his shirt and shows his chest. 

When Stiles looks up, Realization washes over him. There are small red circles on Peter’s chest, that are slowly fading. He reaches up and touches Peter’s skin. “Peter, I think we had the same dream.”

“Oh boy.”

Stiles snorts in amusement. “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.”

Peter isn’t sure what to respond with. He leans his head against Stiles’ as his heart rate calms down. 

Stiles sighs and nuzzles against Peter. Peter tilts his head and kisses Stiles’ hair. “Are you okay?” He asks, against the side of Stiles’ head.

“Yeah, Zombiewolf, I’m okay. It was just startling,” Stiles answers quietly. He feels warm and safe pressed against Peter.

Peter hums in response. The vibration of it against his skull should be annoying, but Stiles leans into even more, instead.

They lay in silence for a little while, drawing comfort in each other’s presence. 

“Where’s Isaac?” Stiles asks once the quiet starts to become too much.

“He’s in the kitchen. Your dad is teaching him how to make pancakes.”

Stiles huffs in amusement, “Who would’ve thought that my dad would become Packfather to a bunch of supernatural teenagers?” Peter can hear the fondness in his voice.

“We should probably join them. Your dad is making a suggestive comment about us staying in bed all day,” Peter muses.

Stiles scoffs. “Gross, Dad!” Stiles yells.

Both can hear Noah and Isaac laughing loudly. Stiles grumbles under his breath as he pushes his blankets down to try and climb out of bed.

Peter looks fondly at the boy - no, not _boy_ \- the _young man_ in front of him and chuckles to himself. His mood changes as he hears Stiles heartbeat change and the salty scent of sweat fills the air, along with a little shame and a river’s worth of frustration.

“Stiles? Do you need help?”

Stiles whines deep in his throat as he tries to sit up. The tight skin of his back pulling and the weakened muscles and damaged nerves protest. “I was okay yesterday, but I think the nerve block is wearing off. Either that, or laying down is drastically easier than sitting up.” He tries again and huffs in defeat.

Peter kneels next to the bed and puts an arm under Stiles’ shoulders. “Just relax, Stiles. Let me do all the work, okay?”

Stiles nods.

Peter slowly lifts Stiles’ upper body off the bed so he’s sitting up. Stiles only grunts and groans a little as the muscles in his body change position.

“Alright, when you’re ready, I’ll help you stand.”

Stiles takes a few deep breaths and loops an arm over Peter’s shoulder as Peter slowly slides him to the edge of the bed.

“Okay, I think I’m ready.”

Gently, Peter lifts Stiles and lets him get his feet under himself before easing his weight onto his legs, Stiles hisses as he feels the strain of his arm being up so high. Fast as lightning, Peter stoops so he isn’t pulling up on Stiles’ arm anymore. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I wasn’t fast enough.” Peter looks mad at himself.

“It’s alright, Zombiewolf, nothing tore. I don’t think that that can be done any other way.” He sighs, sounding defeated. 

Peter’s hand rubs lightly along Stiles’s side, in a reassuring manner.

Stiles starts to squirm a little, his growing need to start his morning, becoming more apparent. 

Peter picks up on his discomfort. “Do you need help in the bathroom?” He tilts his head as if listening. “Isaac says your dad put a kitchen chair in the bathroom so you can lean on it to sit down on the toilet.”

“Can you walk me to the door? The bathroom is farther from my room than it was in the hospital.”

Peter responds with, “I can do that,” and helps Stiles hobble to the bathroom.

When Stiles gets settled in the bathroom and shuts the door, Peter waits outside. He can hear Stiles shuffling around and trying to figure out how to use the bathroom with his limitations.

There’s a pause before Peter hears Stiles’ running commentary. He’s berating the chair, himself, and venting his frustration. He has to stifle a chuckle at Stiles’ antics. He wouldn’t laugh, except now Stiles is yelling at the chair as if it were an uncooperative person, as he moves it about in the small room.

After a few moments of stumbling, tripping, and complaining, Peter finally hears Stiles do his business. The toilet flushes and then a whine follows. 

“Stiles, are you okay in there?” Peter asks.

Stiles groans to himself before he responds “Yeah I’m okay. I just can’t pull my underwear up. These are a bigger pair and I was able to push them down but now I can’t get them back up again. Can you get my dad and ask him to come help me please?”

“Isaac is telling him. He’ll be here in a moment.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Normally, Stiles would be grumbling about ‘damn werewolf hearing’, but he can’t help but feel relief at how helpful it is at this moment.

Stiles waits for his dad to come to the bathroom. He’s managed to sit on top of the toilet lid, so he doesn’t feel like his ass is hanging in mid air. He’s sure the smell of his humiliation is filling the room. Thankfully he hasn’t had to do anything more than pee, yet. He isn’t looking forward to what that will mean when he finally has to do more than that… He thinks digging a hole and leaping in would be less embarrassing.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by the sound of someone tapping on the door. Before Stiles can say anything, Noah opens the door, shuts it behind him, and moves the chair from in front of Stiles. He doesn’t say anything before he leans down, and slides Stiles underwear up his legs. When he gets to where Stiles’ legs are touching the toilet lid, he doesn’t wait for Stiles to take over, he just grabs Stiles arms and slings them over his shoulders so Stiles can brace himself on his dad’s shoulders and when Stiles’ hips are off the toilet lid, he pulls the underwear the rest of the way up. He does the same for Stiles’ pants. Stiles stifles his pained groans as the injuries to his body are pushed beyond the strain. He feels something tear a little and he gasps. His dad finally lets go.

The whole process is very detached and clinical and it makes Stiles want to scream. 

Tears are stinging his eyes as Noah stands and leaves the room, without saying anything.

Peter is standing in the doorway. “Are you okay?” he asks Stiles. He can smell the pain and frustration coming off of Stiles.

Stiles swallows a few times, trying to get his voice back. “I - I think all that manhandling tore something. It was just a tiny bit though.”

Peter's eyes flash blue and a growl starts to form in his chest. 

“Shhh, Zombiewolf, he didn’t mean to. I’m fine. Can you help me up so I can wash my hands?”

Peter sighs and lets the growl fade from his throat. He helps Stiles to his feet and holds him against his side so Stiles can lean on him while he washes his hands. He gives Stiles a hand towel, once he turns the water off.

“Do you need help walking? However you need help, I’m here.”

Stiles takes a few steps forward and his legs wobble. He grunts in frustration. “Maybe you should carry me?” The smell of pain fills the room even more.

Peter scoops Stiles up bridal style and gently adjusts his hold so he isn’t stretching or straining Stiles in uncomfortable ways. Where their skin touches, Peter siphons off Stiles’ pain. Stiles rubs his nose against Peter’s neck, inhaling the scent there.

When they reach the living room, Peter gently puts Stiles on the couch and walks into the kitchen. 

When Stiles sinks into the cushions, he lets out a sigh as his muscles relax.

Peter walks back in carrying several plates of food. Following him are Noah and Isaac, carrying empty plates, silverware, and various other things they’d need. Noah drags over an armchair from the corner of the room, Isaac sits on one side of Stiles, and Peter starts dishing out food. 

Isaac pulls up Stiles’ pant leg, so he can touch his knee. He whines as he begins to siphon off some of Stiles’ pain. He was unprepared for how sudden and sharp it would be, 

“Aw, pup, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to hurt for me.” Stiles leans his shoulder against Isaac and pulls his knee away from Isaac's hand. Isaac whines again and follows.

“It’s fine, Stiles. It’s the least I can do, after all those times you saved my ass.” Isaac blushes as he swears, remembering the sheriff in the room. 

Noah just smiles fondly and clears his throat. “Why don’t we dig in?”

“Excellent idea, Noah.” Peter sits on the other side of Stiles, pulling up his other pant leg and also begins siphoning off some of his pain, where their skin touches. He must be taking more than Isaac, because Isaac sighs in relief. 

The three of them eat and chat. The mood is light and cheerful. After they are done, Noah and Isaac clean up the dishes. Once that’s done, they join Peter and Stiles again.

“I tried to invite everyone else over for breakfast, but Derek seems to be keeping everyone busy. I wanted you to have a birthday meal so you could open some gifts and have a relaxing day.” 

Stiles feels a tickle in his chest and scratches at it, absentmindedly. “Aw, y’all didn’t have to get me anything.” He smiles fondly.

“It’s not every day my boy turns 18.” 

Stiles can almost feel the unspoken words, catching the somber expression on his dad’s face, before it’s washed away with a more lighthearted one. 

“Alright, well. I need to go get my present for you.” Noah gets up and walks to his bedroom. The wolves use this as their cue to also get up. Peter walks out the front door, and Isaac rushes into Stiles’ room. In no time, all three rejoin Stiles while he sips on some water and takes a dose of pain meds.

“Before I give this to you,” Noah warns. “Please understand that I was just following orders. I wasn’t allowed to give this to you until your 18th birthday. I never read it, since it was sealed. I had my own letter anyways. Remember, Stiles, I love you.”

Noah hands Stiles a really thick manila envelope. The kind most people use to send important documents they don’t want to fold. On the front is “Mischief” written in his mom’s beautiful handwriting. The letters seem to glow once Stiles’ hand touches the envelope. 

Stiles holds it against his chest and breathes deeply. He’s pretty sure he can smell his mom’s favorite perfume and body wash. 

Peter leans over and whispers in his ear, “I can smell it too, sweetheart. You aren’t imagining it.”

Stiles lets out a wet laugh, as a couple of tears fall down his cheeks. He wipes them away and smiles up at Peter. Stiles eyes go wide a little, as the sunlight from the windows catches Peter’s eyes and hair, making the wolf appear to be wearing a halo. Stiles wonders when the man became so beautiful. Stiles comes back to himself when something in Peter’s face softens.

“My turn?” Isaac asks. He tilts his head a little in question.

“Yeah, pup, you can go next.” Peter answers. Stiles nods his agreement.

“Melissa helped me wrap it, but I saved for this all on my own. Deaton helped me find the spell to go with it.” He hands over a perfectly wrapped rectangular package. Stiles tries to hold it, but it’s too heavy, and Isaac hurriedly sets it in Stiles’ lap so he doesn’t drop it. The young beta blushes. “Sorry, Stiles. I didn’t realize it was so heavy. I just got the best made one, that would last the longest. The guy who made it promised it would last for a hundred years or more.”

Stiles snorts in amusement. He gently unwraps the present and gasps when he sees what’s inside. He moves the paper aside so everyone else can see. On his lap sits a very plain leather box, with his name tooled into the top. His full name. 

When Stiles looks up at Isaac, with a question on his face, he says,“Peter told me.” 

Stiles scoffs and puts his hand on his chest, pasting on the most scandalized expression he can manage. “How _dare_ you tell someone my best kept secret!” He bats at Peter’s arm playfully. Peter can see the glint of amusement in his eye.

Peter laughs, but doesn’t apologize. 

Stiles sighs in amusement.

After Isaac whines, Stiles clears his throat and lifts the lid to the box. Inside is a leather bound journal with a tree worked into the cover. Beside it is a very ornate calligraphy pen. 

He pulls both out of the box, realizing it was the weight of the box itself that made the gift so heavy. He looks inside for ink. “There isn’t any ink here?” Stiles looks a little confused. 

Isaac smiles. “That’s because you make your own. Open the book.”

Stiles does. Inside are a few loose pages with fancy writing. He holds it up and reads it. “It’s a spell for endless ink. Did you write this? The handwriting is beautiful.”

Isaac blushes and ducks his head down. Stiles wraps an arm around Isaac and nuzzles his jaw. “I love it, pup. It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

Happy rumbles sound in Isaac’s chest. It sounds almost like a purr. 

“Well how the hell am I supposed to top those two? Although. It seems our gifts are all related.” Peter sounds amused. 

Stiles looks up at him and the man is smiling down at him. “This book has been in my family for well over 100 years. It was passed down to me from my father, and his father before him and so on. It hasn’t left Beacon County this entire time. Not the original boundary lines, anyway. But I am not the rightful owner. This was entrusted to my family by yours, Stiles. Your mom’s people. I wasn’t allowed to give it to you until today.”

Peter hands over the small leather bound book that looks as old as Peter describes. Stiles can feel the power emanating from the pages. He opens the cover. ‘Property of Michael Silas Gajos’ is scrawled across the title page.

The smell of salt water fills the air as tears fill Stiles’ eyes. “I… oh wow, you guys. I never thought I’d have anything from my mom or her family. She told us she lost everything when they were forced to move across the country.” He sniffles. 

“Aw hell, kid. I’m sorry I didn’t give the letter to you sooner.” Noah moves the coffee table out of the way and kneels on the floor in front of his son. He wraps his arms around him and holds him tight. Stiles lets out an ‘oof,’ when Peter and Isaac wrap their arms around the two men. 

“This is the closest you will ever get to me being in a puppy pile,” Noah says against Stiles’ shoulder. 

The room is filled with laughter. The four men sit like this for a moment longer when both Peter’s and Isaac’s phones go off. They all untangle themselves. Peter pulls his phone out and frowns when he looks at the message.

Peter sighs. “Duty calls, pup. Alpha dearest wants us to return to the loft for some training and patrolling. Stiles, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Noah, thank you for letting us stay over.”

Noah pats Peter on the shoulder and hugs Isaac, and he sees them to the door. He smiles warmly as he watches the two wolves get in Peter’s car. He shuts the door once Peter leaves the driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the life's blood that keeps me going!


	21. Playlist - Always The Last Chapter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a playlist to go with the story! I will add reasons for each song, as we encounter them so I don't give away the plot lol  
>  **The placement of this will stay at the end of the story, so it will move with each chapter update.** The order of the songs is likely to change too, as I think of them to add. :)

**The newest chapter is always gonna be the chapter previous to this one!** ❤️

  


  1. **Mars** | Sleeping At Last  
\- Basically the main theme of the story
  2. **Howling** | Nathan Ball  
\- cuz its a story of a boy who runs with wolves
  3. **Youth** | Daughter   
\- chapter one's flashback
  4. **I'll Keep You Safe** | Sleeping At Last  
\- Stiles and Peter's moment in the beginning of the story
  5. **White Blood** | Oh Wonder  
\- Stiles visits the tree for answers
  6. **Til My Heart Stop** s | Too Far Moon  
\- Stiles feels the Packbonds sever while captured by The Cat
  7. **Until We Go Down** | Ruelle:   
\- Stiles wakes from his first nightmare in the cave
  8. **This is War** | Losers ** _  
_**\- Past life chapter: the beginning, when Silas realizes dude is a Hunter
  9. **Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - Acoustic** | AURORA  
\- Past life chapter: Peirson saving Silas during the fight scene



**Author's Note:**

> • Please join me on **[tumblr](https://carryonmyswansong.tumblr.com/post/185277970744/two-men-and-a-tree-masterlist)** ❤  
> 


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